


things will never be the same (now i'm wide awake)

by thesarcasticone



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Doctors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Hospital Setting, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, enemies to friends to idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 77,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesarcasticone/pseuds/thesarcasticone
Summary: Catelyn’s eyes fixed on Brienne’s, making sure to not lose the young doctor’s attention as she revealed the truth for the strange summon.“Doctor Lannister has requested an intern be assigned to him; after doctor Karstark has indefinitely removed residents from his rotation. It is an uncommon thing, but Karstark has inevitably left the final decision up to me.”Brienne’s eyes widened as she took in her supervisor’s words; her mind hovering over the words Lannister and requested.Or: the one where I made them both doctors and follow them around for a couple of years.





	1. is it cool that i said all that

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. So this is an odd-ball, I know. But I had been itching to write something set inside a hospital and these two idiots happened and then this monster of a fic happened. 
> 
> It is set in a modern-day Westeros, and since Westeros is neither England nor America, I chose to follow my own country's educational and health systems. Yay! 
> 
> Anyway, this is porbably the most personal story I've ever published. It drained my energy while writing it out. 
> 
> Just some quick notes regarding the health system: med school lasts four years, every aspiring medical doctor then gets to spend one year inside a hospital as an intern where they rotate through the various specialties and floors. Then they are done and if they wish, they present a national residency exam so they can go on and become specialists. 
> 
> A reminder that all mistakes are mine.

It was not usual for interns to be called to the Director’s office right on the first day of a new rotation. 

Looking down at her mug, Brienne could see she had not yet drunk enough of her coffee to even consider herself awake, much less, awake enough to engage in any kind of conversation with her supervisor. 

Doctor Catelyn Stark was a distant acquaintance of her father, yet the medical intern did not recall ever having seen the woman before the start of her internship. She was sharp and kind, ruthless and compassionate; everything an intern could look for in a supervisor. Someone who would take up arms to defend her pupils, yet was smart and compassionate enough to actually listen to complaints. 

Brienne took a sip of her mug, wincing as the hot beverage touched her lips, yet holding back her hiss. 

“Ah, doctor Tarth you’re already here.”

The woman looked far more awake than Brienne felt; she also looked far more well put together, even while being a mother of five. Slim, feminine, with manageable hair pulled tight in a low bun, a delicate auburn color which made her stand out in any crowd. She looked the part of a surgeon. Brienne looked like a wrestler who had gotten lost on their way to the ring. With a body more fitted for a knight of old than a woman of now, Brienne wished she could blame her current status as a medical intern for her disheveled looks. Truth was, even on her better days, Brienne never managed to look pass plain. 

“Yes, um, but I still don’t exactly know the reason. It’s the first day of my surgery rotation. I am supposed to report to the second floor in half an hour to get started on early morning rounds before prepping for surgery, which I’ve been informed usually starts around eight.”

The refined woman gave Brienne a small, amused smile which more than calm her, only served to remind Brienne it didn’t matter how proficient she could be inside an Operating Room, she was still just an intern -the system’s to command. 

“Yes, this is not an antagonistic summon, my dear. At least, not in the traditional way.”

That made Brienne wake up. Her records weren’t perfect, and there had been that  _ small _ incident with Hunt and the others at the start of the year, but she had been assured it would not affect her record; with her name not even having been mentioned in the incident's final report. 

“You are one of the best interns we’ve had this term; your record is clean, and your performance has been pristine. Your attending physicians all have positive things to say about you; your honesty, your dedication, your ability to perform under stress.”

Brienne had no idea where doctor Stark was going with the praise, yet hearing so many compliments thrown her way was making Brienne squirm in her seat, with equal parts embarrassment and silent pride. 

“Thank you,” was all she managed to get out as she felt her face getting warm, a sure blush adorning her homely face. 

Catelyn’s eyes fixed on Brienne’s, making sure to not lose the young doctor’s attention as she revealed the truth for the strange summon. 

“Doctor Lannister has requested an intern be assigned to him; after doctor Karstark has indefinitely removed residents from his rotation. It is an uncommon thing, but Karstark has inevitably left the final decision up to me.”

Brienne’s eyes widened as she took in her supervisor’s words; her mind hovering over the words  _ Lannister _ and  _ requested _ . 

Catelyn blinked under the intensity of the intern’s blue orbs; the bluest she had ever come across. Beautiful eyes, which more than beautiful in color, were beautiful in expression. Always wide, always true and always honest. 

“Lannister has a reputation, I know. But, he is still one of the most skilled general surgeons in the country; some even daresay the best. So, I feel obliged to grant him this boon, if only for the fact that you all, as interns, are required to send in a weekly report detailing your activities to the board. This way we both get what we want; Lannister gets his intern and the hospital gets someone to monitor the Kingslayer.”

Brienne still didn’t move. 

“He is difficult, but you are the one out of the entire group who has the most resilient character. You’re also the one I trust the most with this.”

_ Wow _ . Her father would never believe this. 

The Kingslayer had cost them a lot; Brienne had almost had to quit Stag Elementary because of her father’s losses following the falling of The Valyrian Clinic and Aerys Targaryen's reign. They both were levelheaded enough to admire the surgeon's work, yet had always made it known they didn’t hold any respect for the man. The Lannister name existed alongside scandal, power and secrecy; all traits the Tarths weren’t fond of tolerating. 

“You want me to…”

“I’ve assigned you to him for at least the first month of the rotation. Your weekly reports will have to be sent to me as well as to the board. You are allowed and encouraged to report any kind of misconduct or misbehavior he presents either to you or any member of staff. You’re still an intern and thus he cannot force you into residency hours, although by you taking up the offer you’ll probably have to carry a bit more responsibility than your fellow interns.”

“It’s fine, doctor.”

Catelyn gave her a soft, almost mother-like, smile, one which Brienne could only attribute to the fact that the woman did have five children; the expression was probably one which was eternally fixated on the woman.

“That would be all, Brienne.”

“Right,” Brienne uttered, stumbling to stand, her six foot three body stretching up well above Catelyn’s small figure. 

“Good day, doctor Stark.”

As she stepped outside the office and into the halls of Harrenhal, even if still only half awake, Brienne couldn’t help the small smile which came over her lips. She was finally going to get the chance to wield a scalpel again. The thought alone was enough to make her forget for a fraction of a second, the circumstances in which she had been allowed the opportunity. 

For Brienne, a scalpel wasn’t simply another surgical tool, another metal piece on the Mayo table. A scalpel was an extension of her arm, had been ever since she had first picked it up at the age of seventeen; still in prep school, yet already half in love with medicine and life inside operating rooms. 

She had been taller than the rest of her peers ever since she could remember; broader than most as well; her clumsiness and un-gracefulness an added bonus which had made her the butt of many jokes for far too many years. She had been seventeen and irritated with her new fencing instructor at Morningstar Prep, for having benched her for lack of a ‘decent sparring partner’. He had stubbornly refused to put her up against the boys, which had been usually with whom she trained. But no amount of explaining had made the old man change his mind. So she had accompanied her father to work on that afternoon, sullen and hiding tears behind her sunglasses. Selwyn Tarth had greeted her with a soft smile and understanding eyes. While she had usually helped her father prep for induction, on that particular day, doctor Goodwin had set her aside, asked her what had been troubling her and upon receiving a short but sufficient explanation had redirected Brienne from her father's anesthesia machine towards the sinks. 

He had taught her how to scrub down and how to move around an operating table. He then had given her the scalpel, his hand coming to rest above hers as he had guided her to make the first cut. 

She had fallen in love that day. 

The surgical floor was the second one inside Harrenhal. It was one of, if not  _ the _ busiest of floors, with almost 80 able hospital beds which were never left deprived of patients. It was also home to eight surgical interns and ten surgical residents; all zooming around throughout the day, trying to tend to patients, assist during surgeries, attend lessons and somehow find time to eat  _ and _ sleep. 

Being an intern was hard work, but one Brienne found most rewarding. She had never been one to fit in easily; not in primary schooling, not in prep school, not even at university. Even now she still stood out. She could still hear teases and jests, jokes at her expense, vile and crude comments. But the work distracted her enough, made her forget about everything, made everything seem less serious and important. Because how did the fact her nose was crooked going to save someone’s life? How were her uncountable freckles going to make sure every patient got their charts revised and updated?

Work and dedication were what mattered, and Brienne did not lack in either. And if her patients gave her a smile after she finished tending to them, for a second, Brienne could actually think herself important. 

\-----

Jaime Lannister scoffed at Karstark. So he had gone a little rough on one of the Kettleblacks, the little idiot had deserved it. They all deserved a little scare; something to make their faces go white, their hands tremble, and their minds second guess their previous assumptions or decisions. If a surgeon got too cocky he risked error. None more than Jaime, understood that. 

No residents. No residents because he had confronted his own poor excuse of a student. It was easy for Karstark to lay down the reprimand; the man hadn’t seen the inside of a NIH hospital operating room in  _ years _ . Jaime was good enough to know he could perform his job well on his own; but he had been working for the NIH and at Harrenhal for enough years now, to know that having a resident made it easier and far less soul consuming. Besides, it was also a matter of pride. He would be the only one of the morning-shift attending surgeons without one. 

So he had asked for an intern; because he knew he could do his job alone, but was also well aware that an extra pair of hands would not go amiss -especially after his shift ended. 

Convincing Catelyn Stark took less time than he had assumed. The woman had sneered and her sullen, but composed blue eyes had never once left his face as he had waited for an answer. 

Even after twelve years, Jaime Lannister still found himself on the receiving end of judgmental stares and weary eyes. Twelve years of having to deal with apprehension and distrust taught a person how to react against a repetitive occurrence. 

“They will report on your conduct and your work on a weekly account, just have that in mind.”

“I’ll be the picture of honor.”

The scoff came automatically, and it made Jaime smirk. 

“You’re dismissed, Doctor Lannister.”

That had been two weeks ago, and not until that morning had an intern been assigned. 

\------

As the elevator dinged and its doors opened to the second floor, Brienne took her final sip of coffee, her mind frantically trying to go through everything she knew or had heard of Doctor Jaime Lannister. 

Kingslayer was the crude nickname he had earned following the fall of the Valyrian Clinic about twelve years ago. Her father had informed her of much when it had happened, but Brienne had been eleven at the time; her interests more in tune to swords and making Stag’s Elementary fencing team. In time, she did eventually manage to come into an understanding of what had occurred during that summer, yet she never dared ask her father for the full story. So all her mind knew about the Lannisters, doctor Jaime and the fall of doctor Aerys Targaryen and Valyrian, were the stories she had come to compile over the years. Jaime Lannister had ratted out his attending surgeon and owner of the Valyrian Clinic on the orders of his father. Aerys had lost millions, and Tywin Lannister had gained them. Jaime had been a second-year surgical resident when it happened. 

Inside the walls of Harrenhal, all she knew in regards to the surgeon was the fact he was considered to be the best surgeon on staff -and the most handsome. He was also known to have the quickest of tempers and sharpest of tongues, was difficult to work with and had no patience for incompetence. His reputation made him out to be an ass, an ass no one seemed to trust or like. 

Brienne was trying to not be prejudiced; but as much as she tried, she couldn’t come up with a single positive comment, thought or memory regarding the man. 

She arrived at the intern’s station where a few of her peers were already going through the day's charts and trying to find themselves acquainted with the floor’s structure. The station was not much different from the one on the third floor. Three computers were lined up against one wall, another two to the one next to it. There was a central cart with printed out charts, and a white board hung above the two computers where the names of the surgical residents along with their ranks were displayed; beneath them the interns that would be in their respective rotations. Brienne scanned the board and gave a small sigh as she realized her name was indeed missing. 

She greeted her companion with a small hello which went by answered, as she logged into NIH’s system and typed in the word ‘LANNISTER’. 

“So it’s true, then?”

Brienne turned to stare at Frey, his thin face and small chin making his wide-eyed expression prominent. 

She didn’t answer, but continued her search, trying to find out the man’s schedule and thus- her own. 

“Caron heard about it yesterday night, but we weren’t sure they would be giving  _ you _ to Lannister."

The man snickered, an annoying sound which made Brienne scrunch her face in distaste, ignoring the obvious personal insult hidden in his words.

“I just found out myself.”

Frey continued on, mainly laughing at the fact that the famous Lannister had been insulted by having been assigned her as an intern.

Brienne ignored him, as she was used to ignoring Frey’s comments by now, and finally found the surgeon’s schedule.

He had six patients currently hospitalized, and his surgical day was: today. 

_ Ah,  _ great _ .  _

Yet, Brienne grinned. 

She was quick to print the schedule out, and quick to text Renly about it. 

_ Got stuck with Lannister. Anything you remember that would help? _

She sent it and was almost surprised when she received an answer within the minute, before remembering that as a first-year resident himself, Renly had even more reasons for being awake before seven am. 

_ Can you change hospitals? _

Well that didn’t help. 

_ Be serious. You've known him for years, have you not? Even before Harrenhal?  _

She was finishing up checking on her first patient, a Mrs. Hill with kind lavender eyes and silver hair, when her phone dinged with his answer.

_ His twin sister was married to Robert, one of her offspring is my nephew (don't ask about the other two). I think I saw him at a birthday party once. Always working. He was a dick. He was still a dick at Harrenhal.  _

She adored Renly, had even learned to come to love him as a brother after she had found out about his relationship with Loras. He was her oldest friend and probably the only friend she had managed to make during her school years; but he wasn’t the best informant, or the best at reading people's character. His overt personality tended to make him rash and overzealous.

Out of the six patients doctor Jaime Lannister had under his care, only two of them flinched upon seeing her, which made Brienne finish her early morning rounds with a satisfied half-smile on her face. 

She checked her phone for any more messages from her friend and took note of the hour, her blue eyes widening as she realized she had cut it short. Lannister was scheduled to arrive on the floor any second now.

She flipped through her quick notes, biting her nails as she made sure everything was in order- including her thoughts. 

“Doctor Tarth, I would say it’s a pleasure, but I've been told I must be the prime example of honor and honest work, and thus the sentiment would be a lie.”

She jumped, dropped her pad and felt the heat of an oncoming blush as she bent down to pick her fallen utilities. 

She should have never straightened up.

He stood leaning against a wall, white coat tucked under crossed arms, loose blond curls which barely grazed his jawline framed his face perfectly, said jawline sticking out almost sinfully; his eyes were a deep shade of emerald Brienne was certain she had never seen before in a man. He was  _ -handsome _ , she even dared to think him beautiful. He wasn’t as tall as she was, but she only had a couple of inches on him, maybe two. His body was slender, it reminded Brienne of her high school fencing team's captain, but it exuded strength. His posture was casual, and his expression bore intrigue and incredulousness. 

She felt her face aflame. 

“Doctor Lannister." She extended her hand, formal, detached and already dreading the day ahead. 

“Take me through my charges so we can prep for surgery.”

He called, yet he didn't look upon her as he voiced his order. He turned as he spoke, slowly walking away from where they had been standing. 

Handsome and an ass. So far people had judged right. Still, she followed.

“Oh, and if you see Bronn running around, tell him the next time I catch him fucking Lollys in the nurse’s oncall room I’ll glady report him to HR.”

“I don’t actually-” 

“Come on, intern.”

“It’s Brienne,” she huffed out, determined to make him look at her, to regard her as more than just a servant. 

She recited her notes from memory, presenting Mrs. Hill’s progress, history and current status. He asked for her opinion on a change of treatment and she responded without questioning her own reasoning; her voice firmer than when she had attempted to argue the fact she had no idea who Bronn  _ was _ . 

Her change in attitude made Jaime give her a quick side-glance, before returning to his patient and the fact her bilirubin levels had increased. 

He was all charm and quick wit with every single one of his patients. Brienne watched him, her blue eyes never leaving him, taking him in; trying to understand the man who charmed his patients with an enviable ease and whose green eyes softened upon learning of his patient’s ills, yet couldn’t find it in himself to show her any ounce of civility as he walked in front of her and talked  _ at _ her. 

“Intern?”

“Brienne- it’s Brienne.”

“What is?” He finally turned his eyes from one of the charts to fix upon her for more than a couple seconds. Eyebrows raised as he waited for an answer. 

“My name, doctor Lannister.” Brienne could recall the last time she had felt the need to control her reactions towards a person. She did not care for the memories. 

“Right. Brienne Tarth, six foot-three, daughter of Selwyn Tarth, right? Out of Evenfall University?”

Brinne fought the urge to shrink down, to divert her gaze as he spat out facts about her. A dark tease in his voice, a smirk on his face. 

“Pristine record here at Harrenhal, highest rated out of your generation as well, right? Intern?”

She huffed, yet couldn’t find her voice. None of what he said had been a lie after all. How could she argue against the truth? 

“Come on, surgery starts in half an hour. Don’t forget about Bronn!”

She watched him sprint towards the hallway which lead to the locker rooms. He carried a light step, almost impatient, definitely carefree. 

She stood still, unable to move. 

All Brienne had wanted was a chance to prove herself worthy, a chance to wield a scalpel again. It appeared she would have to wait a little while longer.

\-----

He had heard rumors about a giantess of an intern prancing around the halls of Harrenhal, but Jaime had never been one to pay much attention to intern-centered rumors. The youngest members of staff were only there a year, and only served two months in each specialty rotation. He could barely remember his residents’ names, much less the interns’. 

He was both pleasantly surprised and annoyed out of his mind when upon turning the hallway he came upon her. She truly was as tall as they had informed him. Almost as tall as Selwyn, if his memory served him right. Of course no one had managed quite to describe how  _ -unfortunate _ the girl truly was. Skittish and nervous, clumsy with no grace in her movements; her face was plain, adorned with a broken nose which only made her look more like a professional tourney-fighter than a woman -a girl really. Her eyes were the only thing he could salvage from her physical appearance. Bright, intense, blue eyes -the bluest Jaime had ever seen in a person, with a deepening and observant glance which could make you want to confess even your darkest secrets. 

She was efficient, that much he was quick to learn. She recited her notes on every patient with a cool tone, one which completely contradicted her earlier stance and had Jaime throwing glances her way more than once. She was also decently smart, her answers to his questions always came without hesitancy, her tone smooth and sure, so unlike the quivering mess whenever she tried speaking outside of medical jargon. 

At least he wouldn’t be bored, he couldn’t help but think, as he tried to make sense of the young woman.

\----

Harrenhal’s operating rooms were famous; if not for their structure, one which was bordering on being called rudimentary by newer establishments, then for their history. 

The National Institute of Health had been founded almost three hundred years ago, with the re-construction of Harrenhal and its adaptation into a modern hospital being one of its first commissions. The building held a rich history, both in the medical field and in the tales of the Long Night and Conquest. 

Harrenhal was home to eight different operating rooms, fully equipped with a surgical team each, from nurses to anesthesiologists. The eight ORs functioned daily, and without exception. 

The first ever mitral-valve replacement procedure had been completed in one of them; King Eddard I the Tall had been saved from a perforated lung in another; the famous doctor Dorean Martell, pioneer in laparoscopic surgery, had been educated inside their walls. Countless prestigious surgeons called Harrenhal their home and school. And even if the Citadel Hospital was rated the best educational in the country, it lacked Harrenhal’s versatility and sense of entrepreneurship which had served in the advancement of the medical community in both Westeros and Essos. 

It was the reason it was the largest hospital in the country, and the most sought-out educational hospital. 

Surgery prep consisted of a small room with eight beds, eight monitors, one anesthesiologist and four nurses. Always running around taking vitals, writing down quick notes and making sure each patient was either ready for surgery or ready to be released. 

Brienne found herself meeting a forty year-old woman, who lacked front teeth and smiled graciously at her, complimenting Brienne every time Brienne asked a simple question. 

By the fourth question, Brienne found herself stammering as she tried to beat the woman in her answers in order to avoid another praise. She needed to finish her assessment before Lannister arrived. 

When the surgeon did arrive, he didn’t spare her a glance, simply asked if everyone else was ready to commence.

Once again, impressed by her ability to both exude uncertainness and confidence, Jaime spared her a quick glance which she caught, making her skin flame. 

“Good. Scrub down, you’ll be second assistant today. Bronn managed to make it on time.”

Second was better than nothing. 

She nodded, keeping her gaze down as she moved away from him and his scrupulous gaze. 

Being second assistant was a boring enough task to the average resident, a task usually reserved for first-years. You held Farabeuf and Deaver retractors, and prayed for the routine to end so you could rest your arms. Brienne appreciated being allowed to don sterile gloves and to be close enough to the surgery she could recognize the procedure they were doing, the variations they used and the ability they showed while cutting, cauterizing and dissecting. 

“I can’t find the fucking thing.”

“And yet, you still ignore my advice.”

“Don’t get cocky, Lannister.”

“I have every right to be. Hand over the cauter.”

“Don’t fall asleep intern, and do pull harder.”

Bronn snickered as he handed the surgical tool over to his friend, stealing a glance at the monster of a woman who had been holding the Deaver retractor for a good twenty minutes without ever faltering. Yet Bronn didn’t comment on the girl’s strength, for he found it much more amusing to watch her squirm and flush every time Lannister insulted, teased and poked her. 

Brienne flushed for what must have been the tenth time. Huffing out as she made a mummer's farce of adding force to her pull. She knew it hadn’t been needed, for she could perfectly see the structure they had been trying to dissect for the past two minutes. 

“Better, doctor Lannister?” She asked, with only a hint of annoyance in her tone. 

“What? Yes.”

It would have been easy to tease, to continue on with his torment and entertainment, but her blushes came too easily and it would not truly be sport for him. Bronn could continue on making lewd suggestions and the odd inappropriate comment; Jaime would have to find something else to mock her with, something that would create a better challenge. 

So he continued teasing her about her performance during the procedure, trying to get her to break, to answer back, to let him know she knew he was blatantly making up errors and mishaps in order to rouse her. 

She never broke, though. Sweat gathered on her forehead, same as it did with Bronn and him. Her muscles acquired a small, almost delicate tremble as the minutes passed and she continued posing them in the same position with the same grip; yet she never once complained, or verbally spat back. He did manage to get her to throw her eyes at him once, a stare so intense it even made Jaime forget himself for a second, before remembering he had a person’s bowels out on display. Her glare was almost as fierce as the color of her eyes. 

It wasn’t consciously done. Her eyes and concentration were entirely fixed on the procedure at hand, so her attending’s comments about her hands and their large frame truly didn’t register; his teasing about her having to duck under the lights in order to see, wasn’t an original jest; his comment on her being the most talkative member of the team was simply a comment, nothing more. 

Her hands did itch though, as she watched Bronn struggle with a ligature; her eyes, she was sure, looked almost comical as she widened them with longing. Oh how she ached for the opportunity to participate more actively. 

Jaime saw; he saw how as the surgery progressed, the intern’s eyes started widening with rapt attention; how her tired fingers moved with restlessness as Bronn found himself struggling with ligating a vessel or two. He watched her eyes fly across the open cavity, following their every moment, sometimes even precipitating their activity. Yet her eyes always remained calm, calm and assertive. They were astonishing eyes, indeed. 

“Getting worked up, are you now?” Jaime asked, not entirely certain of his intention. 

She blushed, as Jaime had known she would. 

They were almost at the end, the final ligatures were being made; the final cauterization of bleeding small vessels making the anesthesiologist cough. 

Brienne blinked. “It has been a while since the last time I got the chance to assist during surgery.”

“Oh, so it  _ wasn’t _ your first time, then?”

Jaime threw Bronn a quick apprehensive glance, before continuing the jest himself. The intern was his to torment now, the burte had had his chance. 

“And here Bronn was so sure of him being granted that particular honor.”

“ _ You’re _ the primary surgeon for this procedure, not him.” She couldn't help her reaction towards their implications; the tremble in her voice, the aversion of her gaze. Brienne had never felt shame in being a virgin. She knew what and who she was, there wasn’t a point in obsessing over something as dire as her sexual experience. It had simply taken five idiots and a hundred dragons to change her indifference towards it. It wasn't shame, but weariness and embarrassment still managed to creep inside her mind, no matter how hard she tried to forget the incident. 

“Well yes, but I couldn't well say that _ I _ wanted to be your first, now could I? You would then have to report me out to Catelyn Stark and I’d be left without help again now, wouldn’t I?”

“Wait, they have to  _ report _ on you? Ha! You’ll not last the week with this one then, or any of them! You can't ever keep your fucking mouth shut.”

“We’re closing up now, Varys.” Jaime ignored Bronn.

The enigmatic anesthesiologist smirked and gave a curt nod of his head. Lannister had commented on Brienne having been the quietest during the two hours of surgery, but in truth, the honor should have gone to Varys, for aside from addressing the patient by her name -once, the man had proceeded to refrain from vocalizing anything else. 

“Seriously, your fingers have been tapping and fidgeting ever since we finished the dissection  _ -Richardson- _ , your eyes follow and sometimes already divert towards where our hands will move next; your breathing hitches when we finish a ligature and your pupils are wide and hungry. Shall I continue?”

Brienne blushed, full and red, at having been caught. She wished she could hide her blushing face behind her hands, but they remained in place; holding down the retractor, patiently waiting for either Lannister or Bronn to commence closing the peritoneum. 

“Makes me wonder about a lot of things, you see? Do you hunger for the chance to feel the warmth and stickiness of flesh beneath your hands? For the cold feel of steel against them from mayo scissors and clamps? Have you ever even felt the pulsating beat of someone’s heart as you brush the aorta with your fingers?”

His words were taunting, making Brienne’s mind spiral and think on every word he said; every moment, every feeling she knew well. Her eyes focused on his green ones, green eyes which brilliantly shone under bright lights. Green eyes which, same as hers, carried dilated pupils intensely focused on her and the reaction she would give him. 

“I’ve been first assistant before.” Was all she managed to offer. 

Jaime chuckled, his tone almost sarcastic -incredulous. It irked Brienne. 

“Finish, then.”

She would have smiled, grinned and laughed; she would have thanked and praised him if not for the fact he voiced the command as if he were daring her to fail. 

Without hesitation, yet with caution, she took the needle driver from his offering hand. 

“Come on intern, while the music is still playing.”

“It’s Brienne,” she hissed out. 

She allowed herself one final glance over him, before driving her needle through the patient’s skin. 

All clumsiness disappeared as she moved from stitch to stitch; easy, simple and clean. 

There was no art to suturing skin, and yet, Brienne made it look as if it were. She was good, quick and sure. Her wrist moved well enough, even if she did flip the driver a turn too many as she switched from puncture to actual thread, but she made it work with the ease of one practiced.

_ So she hadn't lied about her doing this before.  _

“Don’t pull too tight, or they’ll rupture.”

“I know. They’re fine.”

Finally. She argued back. He couldn’t help but grin, thankful for the surgical mask he wore, which hid his idiotic and triumpahnt smirk. 

“Are you suggesting you hold the higher ground here?”

“I’m  _ suggesting _ I’m the one with the driver and the one who feels the pressure with which each knott is secured.”

“Do you deny your position?”

“No! Do you deny yours?”

She almost let go of the driver as she retaliated, her anger now bubbling far too close to the surface. He insulted her throughout most of the procedure, baiting her, enjoying as she squirmed under Bronn’s taunts and jabs; all the while ignoring her position of second assistant and intern. She wasn’t going to let him ruin the small scrap of work she had been allowed to perform, or to insult her preparation. She was more than capable of finishing up suturing skin on her own. 

“I know my place.” Jaime grunted, as he let her words sink in.

The worst part was, she probably had no idea the amount of power her question carried; the amount of shame and remorse he still found himself harboring and fighting -even twelve years after Valyrian and Aerys, and the bloody trial that had become his life after it. 

“And I know mine.”

She finished closing up the patient’s skin with the same dexterity she had begun with; the only evidence of her annoyance and judgement, the slight narrowing of her brows.


	2. and i don't even know you yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a medical intern is tough. Being Jaime Lannister's intern is no exception.   
Or: Brienne slowly starts figuring out the famed doctor is not as horrible as everyone says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read this! Again, this is the most personal thing I've ever posted, these first few chapters being basically a love letter to my first hospital and its dizzying and wonderful halls.   
Here's the second chapter, posted a day later than I had planned because life happened and I fell asleep yesterday. 
> 
> Mistakes are still mine.   
Title of chapter is from All I've Ever Known from Hadestown.

It was as if the conversation inside the OR had never occured. 

Brienne still found herself tripping over her feet as she tried to follow his erratic pace across the floor. Jaime would never dare to glance at her for more than a couple of seconds, and would usually bark out commands at her. 

Brienne would huff and glare; she sneered whenever she called his name, yet she never argued back. 

He teased her in the halls and taught her inside the operating room. He avoided conversation during his morning rounds, but pestered her for facts about herself as she held Deaver retractors. 

It quickly turned into their routine. 

\----

“When would surgery be performed then?”

Brienne checked her watch as she tried her best to not falter or stammer as she answered the question. Lannister had never arrived later than a quarter past his hour, yet he was bordering on being an hour late. 

“We need the inflammation to cease, that way the tissue and anatomy won’t be as damaged. The risk for your health could be greater if we don’t wait.”

The patient nodded, tears in his eyes, his face exasperated and bored. The man wanted out of the bed and out of the walls; yet he had to remain in their care for at least another week. Brienne tried to offer him her most compassionate smile, one which was received well enough until the next question flew out of the man’s mouth. 

“What is doctor Lannister’s viewpoint, though? Is he not here?”

Her smile turned into a slight frown as she tried to find an answer which would put the man at ease while not blatantly lying.

“I’m sure he would agree. It’s standard procedure, Mr. Umber.”

That much was true, and she had her notes to prove it. 

“What would I agree about? Feeling bold today, intern? Putting words in my mouth and thoughts in my head.”

“Brienne. About waiting, before scheduling Mr. Umber for surgery.”

He looked the same as he always did. Arrogant and sinfully handsome. But Brienne could see the echo of a storm in his emerald eyes; could feel his tension in the way he kept glancing towards the wall clock, as if he couldn’t believe himself to have arrived as late as he had. 

She spat out Umber’s situation without any hint of sympathy, making her annoyance clear to him. As an intern, she had enough duties and responsibilities to try and juggle with for him to also be dumping his obligations on her plate. 

Still, she couldn't help the empathy which sprung from within her, as she took notice of the internal battle he was seemingly fighting while tending to his patients. It seemed no one took notice if Lannister had arrived to see them almost an hour late, his casual teasing and charm a mask well enough planted and often enough worn that no one could see past it. No one, except Brienne, who after a week and a half of managing him and trying to understand him, could now apparently read him well enough to see through it. 

"I won't report this. I didn’t report any of your previous taunts and misconducts, and I won’t report today. If you were worried about that, then don’t be.”

Jaime stopped in his tracks, turning to look at her, enjoying the fact he didn’t need to look down in order to stare into her blue eyes, bluer than any eyes he had ever seen. 

“Yes, why didn’t you report me that first day? I have often wondered.”

He was toying with her again, Brienne could tell. His mask was on: the quirk of his brow, the set of his jaw, the way he held his breath as if waiting for her answer so he could retaliate. 

It was the most they had stared at each other outside of an OR. 

Brienne tried to stand her ground, but couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze.

“Because your teasing is harmless. They’re just words, doctor Lannister. Words are wind, words don’t make one better or worse. Words are just words. You haven’t insulted my work, or my performance -not even my moral ground. You may think your teasing witty, but I can assure you, I have heard the quips from more than one pair of lips before.”

It was a mantra she had been taught at a young age, back when she was even quicker to anger and quicker to cry. She now repeated it with ease, and with a certain authority which made Lannister curious as to where and  _ why _ she had learned it. 

Jaime flinched back at her words. Words held power in the world, and for her to not know that was stupidly naive. Yet she spoke her reason with such certainty and with an almost daring tone which was tempting to rebuff. For some reason, Jaime couldn’t find it in himself to do so. 

“If you expect thanks, you can keep on expecting them,  _ intern _ .”

Her stare turned deadly and annoyed. 

She truly did have astonishing eyes. 

\-------------

Brienne tried to ignore the distasteful comment made by the circulating nurse, but she involuntarily flinched as the laugh echoed inside an almost silent operating room. She would have normally ignored the quip; she had stopped reacting to people’s comments and jests about her height, her face, her build -a long time ago. Although, contrary to what Renly believed, she hadn’t become immune to them. She still listened and still felt the bitter way they came back to haunt her mind, but she had long stopped reacting to them. 

She simply couldn’t will her body to ignore them that day. Her brain felt as if it were being suspended un mere air and barely held together by a thin scrap of Myrish silk -delicate and about to tear and rip from overuse. Everything felt sideways and everything she touched or tried to do just came out wrong. 

It had started with her alarm not going off on time, making her arrive almost ten minutes later than usual, without coffee in hand or in her system. Skimming over the day’s tasks and preparations, she had forgotten to write down Mr. Hayne’s change of instructions for the day. To her great surprise Lannister hadn’t made a spectacle out of her mistake, but he had teased her about it for the rest of their morning rounds. Brienne had still felt embarrassed, awkward and without sure footing for the rest of the morning. She would have preferred his anger, for she knew how to handle his bitterness and annoyance. 

It continued just before entering the OR; rummaging through her overnight bag, desperately looking for her scrubs only to find she had somehow forgotten to pack them. She had let out a stream of curses that had caused one of the fourth-year residents to fall over a bench inside the locker room. Brienne wasn’t one to use profanity lightly. 

Thus, she had had to ask for a borrowed pair. She felt her face warm as she remembered the Ser Duncan silly-socks which were on display for everyone to see under her borrowed -obviously too short- scrubs. 

Jaime’s eyes shot up from where he was trying to stop the bleeding, landing his gaze unto Brienne’s clearly uncomfortable face. He almost huffed in annoyance. He had required almost an entire procedure of time, before having successfully gotten a reaction out of her on that very first day. They had not even reached the peritoneum and she had already flinched three times. It was ridiculous. 

The male nurse had managed to unnerve the intern with a smoothness which Jaime found himself both envying and questioning. Hadn’t she confessed to having built walls over the years in order to ignore people such as Crabb? Hadn’t he been witness to the extent of said almost impenetrable walls? 

She flinched again as another tease left the nurse’s mouth, her body reacting involuntarily; her skin betraying her as well, with the appearance of a crimson blush, blotchy and asymmetrical, which painted her cheeks and neck.

More than the, frankly idiotic, jokes Crabb kept making regarding Brienne’s height and build, what started making Jaime feel uncomfortable was the way Brienne kept stubbornly concentrating on her work, trying to control her body, and failing miserably at it; the desperation of her failure pouring out of her calm blue orbs. 

She wouldn’t answer back, she wouldn’t even grant the idiot a glare. 

Her eyes never left their patient; her gaze steady and alert to everything around her, from their hands to his own stare. 

“Doctor Lannister?” She prompted upon realizing Jaime had suddenly stopped moving. 

“Talk me through what you’re doing,” he supplied. A small grin coming up on his face as he took notice of the widening of her eyes; whichever ghosts had been haunting them quickly dissipating.

“Talk to me, Brienne. So I know what you’re doing.”

The room became silent as Brienne dared to look upon Jaime. 

“You’re serious?”

“You’re making me regret this, intern. You have three seconds to begin before I retreat my offer. Show me what you’ve got.”

She started talking, softly at first; going through the basics first, as if she had been previously taught on how to proceed under supervision. It only took a second for Jaime to realize she probably had. He corrected her once during the first dissection and twice during the second. 

Crabb didn’t speak up again. 

She was good, but Jaime had already known she was. Ever since that first morning, when she had spent most of the surgery following his and Bronn’s hands with far more attention and intuition than a first-year resident would have. He watched and commented and helped when she needed it, but he led her through the appendectomy as he would have a second-year resident. 

“Tell me why, though?” He asked as she refuted a proposition he gave her. He looked over at Brienne, who had both her hands inside the patient’s abdomen; her hands large and almost obscuring his view, yet precise and gentle, allowing him to direct them as needed. Her eyes were calm, a storm on pause as it contemplated where to strike next. He could practically hear her thinking. 

“Talk, or I take over.”

She huffed in annoyance; the sweat starting to roll down her forehead suddenly becoming a distraction. She knew the answer, but the absurdity and incredulousness of the situation was finally catching up to her. 

“Brienne-”

“Because of the possible complications it would entail.”

“Correct, keep talking.”

“I would if you would stop interrupting."

Jaime couldn't help it. He laughed. 

\--------

“Scalpel,” Brienne called, blue eyes fixed upon her patient, her mind going over the procedure she was about to perform  _ -they _ were about to perform. 

As it had now become custom, she flicked her eyes over to meet Lannister’s green orbs. Two pairs of eyes met, and two silent nods were given before the first incision was made. 

It would be the fourth surgery he had let her assist in. 

“Are you sure you’re not related to him? He’s tall, blond, has blue eyes.” Jaime teased as he lead the dissection. “Although he does have a wicked-smart sense of humor. Seriously Tarth, you should learn to crack a joke or two.”

She glared at him. “You’re going to hit the artery.”

“No, I am most certainly not. Feeling bold again, are we?”

Brienne’s eyes widen to an almost comical width, and her face flushed a light pink as it always did every time she overstepped her boundaries. 

Jaime had been the best surgeon to have come out of The Citadel in years; and even if his reputation had taken a sour dip, he still prided himself for being one of the best on the job, not just at Harrenhal, but in the country. It was refreshing, if not a tad ridiculous, to have someone treat him with the same trepidation as one would treat any mediocre surgeon. 

“You still haven't answered me.” He pestered on. 

“I did. You refused  _ -mayo scissors- _ to accept my answer.”

They worked in silence for a full minute, before Brienne reluctantly huffed out, “I don’t actually know. My father isn’t one to talk much about his family, and my mother died when I was three.”

She didn’t look at Jaime for the rest of the surgery. 

\----------

_ “Has he threatened you in any way?” _

“Why would he? No, he mostly tries to annoy me. He tried to insult my face and body that first day, but stopped once he realized I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of retaliating.”

It was closing in on three am, Brienne had not been able to rest for most of her shift. Her legs hurt and throbbed, her head was starting to hurt from dehydration and she couldn’t find her water bottle anywhere. 

_ “Just because you’ve learned to not react to insults doesn’t mean they aren’t damaging, Brie; or that they don’t affect you.” _

She wasn't in the mood for an emotional lesson from Renly, of all people. The only reason she had answered his call, had been the fact she hadn't heard from him in months, except for the occasional text. His residency program in King's Landing had a reputation for being one of the most demanding; and so far it had been proving it right. 

“He’s annoying, a right ass most of the time; but he’s harmless.”

Renly’s chuckle increased her headache. 

_ “Jaime Lannister is a lot of things, harmless is not one of them. Please don’t tell me you’ve succumbed to his squared-jawline, golden locks and gorgeous green eyes.” _

Brienne flinched and shook her head, trying to erase the image of Jaime Lannister from her mind. The man was handsome, but she truly couldn’t care less if he had been grotesque or a god himself. The man was talented inside an OR, and could be half-decent when he wanted to; and that was all that mattered to Brienne when giving an opinion of him. Still, she was only human and twenty-three -and she had eyes. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

_ “You succumbed to mine.” _

“Good  _ bye _ , Renly.”

_ “Wait, no. I'm sorry, it’s three am and we’re both tired and I did not mean that.” _

He did though, and the blush Brienne currently exposed was deep and full enough to get one of the resident’s attention. 

“No boyfriend calls on shift, Tarth.”

That did not help her situation. She blushed harder, and through gritted teeth had to explain to her friend she would be hanging up on him, with a promise to call him back once the sun had risen and both had had time to consume enough caffeine to wake up an elephant. 

It had been years since Renly had discreetly and with a gentleness that was all Renly, set her aside on his twenty-first birthday to tell her about Loras Tyrell, thus ending a fantasy which she had lived inside of since she had been thirteen years-old. She had smiled then, congratulated him and given the relationship her seal of approval. Loras had been in her class during that first year of med school and had been nice enough towards her. Renly had hugged her and told her he was sorry for not telling her sooner. Brienne had then realized Renly had known about her ridiculous crush on him all along. 

It had been  _ years _ , and somehow she still felt embarrassed by the entire situation.

As she put her cellphone away, she finally got a glimpse of her water bottle hiding behind one of the computers. 

Victory.

“Hey Tarth?”

“Yeah?”

“One of Lannister’s is asking for you.”

Brienne thanked the resident for the information, squared her shoulders and took another swing of water. An intern’s work was truly never done. 

\------

“Seven hells, intern, you look as if a train ran over you.”

“Don’t. Please, not today. I haven’t slept, and I know that is not an excuse, but I seriously have not touched a seat since,” she checked her watch, grimmiced when she realized she would probably end up using her glasses that day, “noon. And I swear, if I have to see Dayne one more time, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Jaime’s eyes widened as he took her in; her clothes rumpled as if she hadn’t had time to set them out; her hair, short and brittle and usually wrapped tight in a low bun, fell freely around her head; eyes bloodshot and half-opened. She looked as if she were about to murder someone. Her skin looked even more pale than on any normal day, with her freckles having dulled from being inside for more than twenty-four hours. 

“Have you at least had coffee?”

“No, but Freen spent most of his night complaining of pain; so I’ve managed to schedule a CT-scan at eight for him.”

Jaime’s eyes shot up upon hearing that. The radiology department at Harrenhal was famous for many things. Same as the operating rooms, the department was filled with rich history and innovative discoveries; but what it was most famous for now a days, was the fact the department liked to make a living hell out of the internship by not granting the interns requested studies. 

“How the fuck did you manage that?”

Brienne let out a frustrated sigh, “I’m trying to forget about it. Also, Jill kept asking for you in her fevered state. I managed to keep it under 38 degrees, but it won’t break until we put her under.”

Jaime stopped her with his arm, his mind still hung up on the fact she had managed to secure a scheduled CT-scan for a patient. He had been working at Harrenhal for five years, and he had never heard of an intern managing such a feat. 

“A CT-scan, Brienne?”

Brienne took another breath as she held his gaze, taking in the curiosity in his gaze, and dare she say -concern? She was too tired to try and figure him out. 

“I agreed to a date with the second-year resident. Lily is still claiming to not feeling any better so-”

She was stubborn, he had known that from the start, but she was surpassing his own expectations. He had been impressed with her surgical abilities, with her calm and perceptive eyes; he had been amused with her clumsiness and her bashfulness; he did not know what to feel regarding her irritatingly nobility and dedication.

“Wait, with Tormund? The hairy beast?”

Brienne shuddered. 

Jaime chuckled, gently grabbing her by her bicep as he turned her away from the patient’s bed and on to the corridor leading to the elevators. 

“If I’d known arrogant, hairy beasts were your type, intern; I would have never told Bronn to fuck off.”

“Where are we-”

“Coffee, intern. You need coffee if you’re going to make it through the next eight hours. Drink some, eat something, go to sleep for an hour and meet me in OR 4 when you’re done.”

Brienne couldn’t help but blink as she tried to process the information given to her. Jaime Lannister was allowing her to -rest. She had never heard of Lannister ever granting any kind of permission. Then again, she had never heard of him allowing an intern to scrub in either. It was getting harder and harder to hate him when he kept doing the exact opposite of what she expected him to do. 

It took a full five seconds to remember his previous comments. She blamed it on her lack of caffeine. 

“Bronn?”

Jaime laughed, outloud and for everyone passing the second floor corridor to hear. Brienne’s face turned red. Oh, but sometimes she still wished she could kill him.

\-------

Arrogant. Conceited. Ass. 

The words repeated inside her mind like a prayer of old, except none of those words fitted any of the seven gods Brienne had been raised with. 

She looked back down at her phone, his words quick and misspelled, as if he had been distracted while typing them. 

‘ _ Late. tell Stap. strok. Stark. Tell stark something. Stall _ ’

_ ‘I will not lie to her, I could get suspended.’ _

_ ‘R u kiding me/’ _

_ ‘Tell me why I should, and I’ll consider it.’ _

_ ‘Dr. tarth. Its a fucking orrdr’ _

_ ‘Why’ _

Her phone rang and she jumped at the sound of it, not recognizing her own ringtone, ignoring the chuckles and snorts coming out of Dayne’s and Longbough’s mouths. She was getting tired of being their central beacon for amusement, but she still wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of lashing out. She answered, a scowl on her face, heat in her eyes. 

“My sister had an accident, and I am  _ trying _ to juggle three kids here who keep either flipping me off or clinging to my side”, a pause, “so stall for Stark and I swear- I swear I won’t pester you for the remainder of your rotation.”

Brienne blinked. She had no idea how to reply to his strained confession and promise. 

“Ok.”

“Seriously, Brienne. I know my word isn’t worth much, but you try -wait,  _ ok _ ?”

Still frozen in place, Brienne repeated her answer. She could hear a kid -a boy- talking over him; his childlike voice high and frantic; his words almost unintelligible due to the fast pace he kept. 

“Condition free. I’ll stall. You don’t owe me anything. You’ve let me assist in more than enough surgeries.”

“Brienne-”

Her name on his lips, soft and almost pleading, a voice she hadn’t ever heard him use, had her head feeling dizzy for a second before remembering where she was. 

“Consider the debt already paid. Goodbye, doctor Lannister.”

She hung up, letting out a sigh. 

Kids. Sister. Family. 

Now she was the one who felt like an ass. Then again, he could have texted her the information before trying to blindside her into lying. He knew she wasn’t good at playing games. He had called her face  _ ‘too damn honest for its own good’ _ , more than once. 

Brienne bit her lip, trying to remember as much as she could about Cersei Lannister and the rest of the family. 

“Doctor Tarth?”

Catelyn’s voice brought Brienne out of her mind, dropping her notes as she tried to straighten herself. 

As she stood up, her face flushed from embarrassment, and her mind spun as she tried to organize her thoughts. She prayed to the seven she could weave a convincing enough tale to her mentor. 

She didn’t. 

Catelyn gave her a soft and almost motherly look of, what Brienne thought to be, sympathy. 

“Lannister is many things, my dear. He can charm any snake to do his bidding, just as well as he can kill it with his bare hands. Aerys paid the price in his time, and he was one of the most guarded and powerful people to have existed.”

Brienne halted, her eyes opening in question. There was more to that story than people let on, and the more she came to know Lannister, the more she was sure her assumptions would prove to be true.

“You’ve never given me cause to doubt you, Brienne. I hope my trust is well placed.”

“It is, doctor Stark. But I made a promise, and I saw it through. I am sorry for the deception, but it has been an unusual morning and my brain decided to work on instinct, rather than reason.”

“You are dismissed, child.”

Brienne ran from Catelyn’s presence and sullen eyes. She couldn’t help the shudder that ran through her body as she tried to forget the almost haunted look the woman had given her just before dismissing her. 

\---------

“Speak to me, intern.”

Brienne huffed, her gaze quickly flicking over to him, where he continued to rest against one of the changing room lockers. 

She had been giving him the cold shoulder for days now. 

It had started out amusing enough. Jaime had arrived with two coffees and a bear-claw. Brienne had greeted him right outside of the elevator, her blue eyes already a raging storm. She had then proceeded to -rather forcefully- throw her latest performance review in his chest. She had accused him of mocking and insulting her honor, before proceeding to cease speaking to him for the remainder of the day. 

“And here I thought you would be flattered.”

He had though. He had written the review with as much honesty as he was capable of portraying in writing. Even if he did spend most days teasing and reiling her up around the floor and inside the operating room, he appreciated the girl’s talents and knowledge. So he had sat on his kitchen table, and had written and rewritten her evaluation at least three times before feeling satisfied that his words did her justice. 

“Flattered?” She scoffed. “Stark was so astonished by it, she, in her most delicate fashion, made implications she thought we were-” 

She couldn’t finish the sentence as three staff members from the night shift entered the room, all of them chuckling, throwing the pair of them an odd look which Brienne was too tired to mind. 

“We were what? Fucking?”

She forcefully opened her locker door, ceremoniously slamming it his face, trying hard to ignore the sinking feeling his bewildered tone gave her. It had been embarrassing enough to try and explain to her director the extent of the odd-quasi friendship she had formed with the man; she didn’t need to be reminded of the incredulance of the situation. 

The snicker came not from Jaime, but from one of the three other men inside the locker room. Brienne spared them another quick glance.

She recognized their faces, but their names escaped her. One was a surgeon, a friend of doctor Bolton who would sometimes cover for him during his night shifts. The other two were nurses and part of Bolton’s team. 

“Look, Brienne-” Jaime tried to reason with the girl, his voice softening as he uttered her name, desperately wanting her to close her locker door so he could stare at her as he tried to explain himself, to apologize for making her have to stand up to Stark. He hadn’t meant to cause her trouble. 

But she didn’t turn to stare at him, her gaze landing on the three idiots who hadn’t stopped snickering since they had stepped inside the room, instead. Jaime quickly recognized Hoat, but the other two he had never had the pleasure of meeting; a feat Jaime was quick to decide, to be a gracious one. They looked ragged and -harsh; and if they were in the company of Hoat, Jaime did not have reason to doubt his assumptions. 

“Ignore them. Brienne, look at me.”

“Fucking Lannisters, always thinking the world revolves around you, all of you.”

The words were not whispered, but hadn’t been meant for neither Jaime nor Brienne to hear, yet both had. 

Brienne slammed her door shut with a force which startled everyone around her, including Jaime who had only rolled his eyes at the mention of his family name. He had endured far worse comments and sneers by people far more important to both him and the medical community to be bothered by the weasel’s vague attempt at an insult. 

Brienne wasn’t used to it, though. She had heard a lot of things about Jaime Lannister over the weeks she had been working with him, and even before that. She had never thought someone would be idiotic enough to dare speak in front of the man, and to use her as a means to an end. 

She was lacking in sleep; tired from being kept awake for the most part of the night, assisting one of the residents in an emergency appendectomy that had somehow become a complicated colostomy. She was embarrassed about having to explain to almost everyone on staff she was not fucking Jaime Lannister. She was mad at herself for caring about what people thought about her and her sex life  _ -again _ . She was disappointed in Jaime for not retaliating after hearing two more sleazy -and frankly quite lazy- sneers directed at him. 

“Brienne, leave it.”

Jaime had wanted her to look at him, to stare into her blue eyes and try and decipher the thousand emotions and thoughts they held. What he got instead was the opportunity to stare at her frame, rigid and unmoving, tense in anger and frustration; her hands balled into fists as she took in the comments and insults thrown at him. The picture she painted was one made to intimidate, but Jaime grew only fascinated by it. Other than her occasional blush and flinch, Brienne was not one to display her emotions so openly. 

She did turn her head then, her eyes finally meeting his. 

“You shouldn’t have given me so much praise.”

After a beat of silence and unresponsiveness, Jaime gave her a small smile, followed by a sly smirk and a teasing glint in his eyes.

“I only wrote the truth, and for once I can say I am proud of that truth.”

“Fucking kingslayer. What the fuck do you know about honest truth and taking pride in it?” One of the nurses spat, the larger of the two, the one carrying a braid styled in the Dothraki-of-old way. 

Hoat started laughing, his tone high and shrill, making Brienne wince and Jaime fume. 

He had not wanted her to get riled up because of him, but he had every right to take a swing for his sake. The feeling of wanting to take a punch came suddenly and with such vicious intent, Jaime had to suppress a grin. It had been years since he had felt the familiar humm in the back of his mind, the incentive to fight, to defend his honor and his work. He had long accepted his ruined reputation as his mantra and his life. It had been fruitless and consuming to try and swim against the current, so he had stopped. 

For some inexplicable reason (one which he was almost certain was standing mere feet away from him), the humming had started up again. 

“More than you and your whole bloody band of mummers, Hoat. I can guarantee that.”

“Call us what you want, kingslayer. There’s still nothing worse than betraying your own and feeding them to the dogs.”

“His name is Lannister, doctor Hoat, not kingslayer. This is a hospital, not a bloody pub.”

“Shut your whore, Lannister, or you-”

The man did not get to finish his sentence for the humming inside of Jaime’s head had grown in intensity until it finally erupted in a grand crescendo which efficiently transformed into his fist colliding with the man’s jaw. 

Brienne shouted at him, with more of an annoyed tone than a frightful one, lacing her words. 

Stupid, idiotic girl; he was defending her reputation and she still scolded him. 

Jaime threw the first punch, directed at Hoat and his bearded face. The blow landed with good energy, making the old goat stumble in both surprise and pain; but not long after, Jaime felt a kick from behind him and another at his side. His arms tried to take the three at once, but it had been years since he had properly fought -not since he had finished prep school and had won his school’s fighting tourney. 

He managed to hit Hoat twice, the second of his blows landing square in his belly, sending him back with a hoof and a moan which felt like music to Jaime’s ears. 

He was about to overpower one of the other two when a paler hand than his own, flew across and knocked the braided nurse to the ground with a single blow. 

The punch had been good, but not as incapacitating as Jaime’s to Hoat had been. The nurse stumbled, but got back up again with a quickness and lightness of foot which produced a curse to fly out from Brienne’s mouth. 

Jaime couldn’t help the smirk. She had miscalculated her punch. He had seen that same look on her face before, usually right after she had miscalculated a cut or dissection. The intern knew what she was doing. 

Jaime guarded her right as he held the third idiot off, shouldering him hard, nearly tripping him over the still scrunched body of Hoat. 

Brienne tried to not let Jaime out of her sight as she trusted her body to not give out from exhaustion. Stupid, arrogant, hotheaded man. She didn’t need him to defend her; she had been doing fine guarding her own reputation by herself for  _ years _ . 

She must have lost sight of him for a couple of seconds. She must have gotten distracted by the idiots who kept making obscene gestures towards her as if taunting her to attack them once more. She was about to strike; she could hear her heart beat in her ears and was using its steady and calm pace as her timekeeper, as her grounding mechanism. Using the time to properly distribute her body weight, making sure she did not miscalculate her strength this time. So concentrated she was, she did not hear Jaime, or Hoat, or the tumbling of metal upon metal as the lockerstall came crashing down her way. 

The only thing Brienne’s senses could manage to resiger were the bulk of a man crashing into her own body, large and strong enough to throw her aside as the last of the heavy stalls stumbled and landed right where she had been standing. 

The next thing Brienne grew aware of as she hit the ground was Jaime’s scream.    
  



	3. i jump from the train, i ride off alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surgeon trusts his hands as much as he trusts his mind. Jaime is hit with the possibility of losing said trust. He doesn't take it lightly. 
> 
> Or: Jaime broods, curses and insults everyone. Brienne's mind is fuzzy on painkillers and adrenaline and aches for both her injured body and Jaime's ruined hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

Her head and eyes hurt. The left side of her torso throbbed whenever she tried to move, and yet Catelyn Stark continued to hover and to ask questions, deliberately ignoring the winces Brienne gave as she tried to explain to the best of her abilities what had exactly occurred inside the locker rooms. 

“Were you on shift last night, Brienne?” The older woman huffed as she sat down beside her intern; concern present in her almost motherly gaze.

Brienne knew she had been asked something entirely different just before Stark had decided to sit beside her, she could tell by looking into her director’s eyes. As much as she tried, Brienne couldn’t recall the question.

“Yes, that’s why I had gone inside the locker rooms. I had wanted to change from last night’s scrubs. Doctor Lannister followed me in.”

Brienne gave another wince as she tried to stand. 

“Don’t move so much, child; you could have-”

“I’m fine enough, doctor Stark. I’ve broken my ribs before. I’ve also had two concussions, and I feel better than I did during any of those times; just a little sore from the fall. I just need to see if doctor Lannister-”

Catelyn sighed as she took in Brienne’s almost frantic state. With two grown daughters herself, Catelyn wasn’t a stranger to masks of concealed affection. The girl had vouched she had never slept with the man, yet she had never once written him off as anything less than an ‘adequate teacher’; not to mention the man himself had given her so much praise in his own evaluation, even Karstark had insinuated something must have happened between the disgraced surgeon and the intern. 

Brienne had never given Catelyn reason to doubt her word. The girl was honest, and possessed an inability to lie which left Catelyn with no other choice but to believe her.

Observing her now, Catelyn sighed. The girl might have not slept with the man, but lack of physical contact did not exempt Brienne from having developed less than adequate feelings for him.

Catelyn couldn’t offer her intern anything other than pity, as she watched her cautiously make her way towards where Jaime Lannister had been taken for examination. 

\------

“I’ll fucking  _ kill _ you!”

“No, you won’t. Now, please shut up.”

Jaime fumed as he tried to avert his gaze from his ruined hand. 

_ Stupid, idiotic, noble  _ ass. 

The words repeated themselves inside his mind; steady and persistent. They had come to him from the moment he had tackled Brienne out of the locker’s way and had taken the full blow of the metallic structure himself. 

For all the teasing he had been mentally giving the intern about her miscalculations regarding her punches, he had ended up making one of his own when the metallic structure had come down to land not on his body, not on his legs, not on his fucking arm -but on his  _ hand _ . On his fucking right hand. 

His scream had made Hoat and his mummers flee in panic and had made Addam Marbrand, a day-shift attending surgeon, and one of the few staff members Jaime considered a friend, appear inside the locker room. 

The last thing Jaime remembered before having passed out from the sheer pain of having almost every bone in his hand and wrist crushed, was the figure of a dizzying Brienne standing up to help Marbrand move the damn locker off of him. 

“When have I ever done what I’ve been told to do? Fuck off, Daven! You’re a guest in my home, not my fucking nurse!”

A knock was heard after Jaime’s rant. 

“Tell them to fuck off.”

“Let me finish this and I’ll gladly tell the entire hospital to go and shit itself. Just don’t fucking move or you’ll lose your hand, Jaime.”

Jaime ignored his cousin, ignored every feeling of dread, every fact he knew about hand trauma. 

_ Stupid, idiotic, noble ass.  _

Brienne waited, wincing every time she heard Jaime’s grunts or flat out screams of pain. She knew he had probably already received a strong analgesic to help dull the pain; she also knew the man to be a fan of theatrics, and would most probably take advantage of the situation to torment whoever had been assigned to treat his initial wounds. 

His hand. It had landed on his  _ hand _ . 

She should have never let him out of her sight. Brienne knew him to be prone to idiocities and recklessness. She had learned that about him right on the first day of their acquaintance. Jaime Lannister lived his life the same way he operated inside an OR: fast, precise, with added drama, and a sense of recklessness which had found Brienne with the imminent need to ground him on more than one occasion. 

It came as a surprise when doctor Daven Lannister opened the door to Jaime's room. 

“Daven,” she supplied in puzzlement. “I mean, doctor Lannister. I was just- I simply wanted to- How is he? When is the hand surgeon arriving? Has his family -er, his siblings been informed?”

The blond man raised his eyebrows at the way Brienne kept changing her train of thought and speech; with her eyes drifting from his own, to the door above him, to the far side of the corridor.

“You must be his intern, Brienne Tarth, if I’m not mistaken? You’re Selwyn’s girl, that’s where we know each other from.”

Brienne cursed her height, but nodded. 

“Daven Lannister, doctor Tarth; though it seems you were already familiar with my name. I’m the trauma surgeon at Mooncastle Hospital in the Vale. I’ve known your father for a good while.”

“Yes, the Vale,” Brienne repeated. "I remember." As if saying the words aloud would help ground her dizzying mind. She just wanted to see him, to apologize for  _ everything _ ; from him having end up stuck with her for a complete month, to him erroneously believing himself in her debt for attempting to cover for him with Stark.

“Doctor Qyburn will be his attending physician. He's scheduled to arrive in an hour. Go and rest, child; Jaime is fine. He’s being a complete ass about this, so that means he is no worse than usual.”

Brienne couldn’t bring herself to find amusement in Daven’s words. If Jaime was being his normal, arrogant, infuriating ass self, it meant the severity of the situation had not yet dawned upon him. She feared for when the ghosts of the events would catch up to him. 

\------

They announced his surgery right before she had to head off for the day. It was midday, the morning shift was cheerfully clocking off and fleeing from the walls of the hospital. Brienne was going on her thirtieth hour on call; her feet somehow dragging her across the floor, keeping her from collapsing to the ground. She abruptly stopped in her tracks as she heard doctor Qyburn inform Daven of his cousin’s condition and impending surgery. 

“I’ll find someone to assist you during the procedure; just give me a couple of minutes to consult with Karstark about it.”

“I can do it.”

Her raised voice caused more than one head to turn her way. Brienne was conscious of her appearance; exhausted past the point of sanity, with red-rimmed eyes, an awkward gait and unkempt looks. She was aware of how the mere suggestion of her helping out in Lannister’s surgery only served to fuel the rumors the man himself had started; ones which she had been desperately trying to dismantle. 

She was past the point of caring. She felt responsible for the man’s injury, for his idiotic impulse -for her own. She should have never punched the bearded nurse. Should have cried for help instead of encouraging the fight. Her stubborn pride hadn’t let her. 

“And who are  _ you _ , exactly?”

Doctor Qyburn was an old man; slender, with deep and cold eyes which made Brienne shiver, and a soft voice which reminded her of the braavosi she used to encounter roaming around the docks back on Tarth. 

Daven answered in her stead. “She’s Jaime’s intern. She was there when the stall fell.”

“Your heart may be in the right place, my dear; but you’re neither qualified, nor required.”

Brienne flinched -gods how she hated flinching- at his casual dismissal. She had the skills; she knew it, Goodwin knew it, her father knew it, even Jaime knew it. 

“With all due respect, doctor; but you’ve no references to come out and judge my skill inside an operating room with. I am more than capable of assisting in this, ask doctor Lannister - _ Jaime _ , himself.”

She took a step forward, her legs trembling under her, from both exhaustion and anxiety, but allowing her to continue standing as she tried to plead her cause. She could practically hear Jaime’s teasing voice inside her head. 

Gods, she was  _ tired _ . 

“Doctor Tarth, you’ve had a tiring shift. Go home, rest. When you come back tomorrow morning, he will still be here for you to torment all you want.” Daven tried to reason with her, a lopsided smile so alike his cousin’s Brienne had to suppress what felt like an almost maniacal laugh. 

“I can do it.”

“Brienne, leave it.”

Honor Dayne, first-year surgical resident, had appeared to her right, his tone soft and with a definitive quality in it which made Brienne fume with anger. She couldn’t leave him in the hands of just anyone. She couldn't risk him going under and not coming out of it without ever getting the chance of apologizing; without her ever telling him she didn’t truly loathe him, but had even grown to tolerate him -to admire him. 

Tears rimmed her eyes; her sleeve coming up to try and wipe the moisture before they fell freely down her cheeks. 

“This goes beyond your level of dexterity. Qyburn will operate on Lannister with the help of one of the third or fourth-year residents. And you, Tarth; you will go home and  _ sleep _ .”

Dayne pulled on her sleeve again, stopping Brienne from taking another step towards Qyburn and Daven. 

“Tarth, I’ll call Stark if I have to. You’re exhausted, and more than dizzy on painkillers. Go  _ home _ .”

She glared at the first-year resident. Her blue eyes a raging storm of a thousand emotions not even she could properly catalog. 

“If something goes wrong, it will be on me.”

_ Stupid. Honorable. Idiot.  _

“It won’t. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

Why did she always feel like wanting to kill Dayne? 

The first-year took her by the arm, gently guiding her backwards, making her acutely aware of the extreme level of her fatigue, as she couldn’t even muster up the strength to resist the nudge. 

“Doctor Daven, has his family been informed? His sister?”

Daven’s eyes narrowed as she asked about Cersei, a question in them which Brienne did not feel lucid enough to neither comprehend nor offer a comprehensive answer to.

“They have.”

With a final breath, she stole a quick glance at the private room where they had been keeping Lannister for the better part of the morning. 

“Good.”

\----------

She crashed on top of her bed without grand ceremony, but couldn’t will her sore body to find sleep. Her body was exhausted, and her limbs and torso were grateful she had finally decided to stop moving around; but her mind grew even more restless as the minutes progressed. 

Around eight in the evening her phone dinged, forcing Brienne to move across her room to retrieve the contraption from her bag. She cursed as she moved, but didn’t back down from her mission. 

_ ‘He’s out of surgery. Hand’s in a cast. Not one of us can see him. They say he’s fine.’ _

She owed Frey a favor. Great. 

It was only then when sleep found her at last. 

\-----

Fine was an understatement. 

“Why are you here?”

Brienne stood her ground hovering over the threshold to his room. Her sapphire eyes fixed on his own emerald ones, not daring to risk a glance over to where his right hand had been set. 

She had debated on whether to enter the room for a good twenty minutes, worrying her lip past the point of drawing blood from it; making it appear even more swollen than it usually was. The initial urge to see him had dwindled down once the pain killers had left her system; once sleep had restored her brain to that of an almost functional adult. 

Pain and adrenaline had made her desperate and emotional. Sleep and rest had restored her natural cautiousness. 

It had taken seeing Daven come out of the room muttering a string of curses under his breath to finally push Brienne to enter the room. 

“You’ve never been one for words, have you -intern? Come to stare? Come to pity? Come to brag about the way you managed to take down the braided bastard? Zollo is his name, if you were wondering.

Brienne continue to stare, her blue eyes never moving from him. Jaime almost laughed; it was probably the longest the intern had ever dared to directly gaze at him. 

“Hoat, Zollo and Timeon. HR has been here at least three times to take my statement, and I think I have managed to give out three different versions of it. I don’t know what they had expected to come out of a drugged person’s mind, though. Have they come after you as well? No, they haven’t; of course they haven’t. Bloody Starks and their honor. Catelyn has probably turned the entire syndicate on its head, in order to protect one of her own. Your precious record remains clean. Why taint it with something like  _ this _ ? What’s one more stain inside my book, eh? Just another fight, another  _ -accident _ .”

He was raving; his eyes not fixed on any spot in particular, but appearing lost in either memories or dreams. His voice had adapted a neutral and aloof nature which Brienne had never once dared to associate with his lively -if annoying- self. 

“You wanted to see  _ this _ , then?” He asked, moving his arm as if daring Brienne to stare upon it, upon the work Qyburn and one of the third-year residents had done. 

It was quick; a darting of the eyes which was almost lost to Jaime. But he saw it. Could almost feel the air around the room change as soon as she took in his bandaged hand; the external fixator firmly placed around his wrist. 

Pity. Guilt. Anger. 

“Qyburn says I should be able to regain an almost normal moving range and adequate strength -in time, of course. With the proper PT and with whichever amount of effort I decide to invest in, so long as I don’t allow the muscle to atrophy too much.” He turned to stare at his own hand. His green eyes filled with an anger Brienne had never seen him display, a desperation she had only seen and heard once, and a pity she was far too used to seeing reflected back from her own eyes every time she stared too long at a mirror. 

“Still nothing, intern? Not even a blush? I can say I feel rather disappointed by your visit. I would have expected a tear or two; or maybe a laugh? A flinch, as you often do?”

“I think you’re confusing me with you. I just wanted to- I have been assigned to Marbrand for the rest of the week before continuing on with my normal rotation. He granted me the time to come and-”

Why couldn’t she simply  _ tell _ him? The words forze on the tip of her tongue, her eyes refusing to stare directly at him as she tried to speak; too afraid that whatever it was she was feeling, he would be able to read far before she could even process it herself. 

“Marbrand is good. Although, he did steal a girl from me once.”

“I don’t see the relevance to-”

“Well neither do I, intern. Why  _ did _ you come, if not to mock, apologize or rejoice in seeing me stripped of every piece of armour I posses? For years people have threatened me; they have cursed my existence and have prayed for my downfall. It only took twelve bloody years, but the Kingslayer is finally down. All thanks to a fucking intern whose voice he can’t seem to get out of his fucking head.”

Brienne finally recoiled; shoulders slumping, eyes filling with tears which she couldn’t control. 

“Leave.”

“How dare-”

“Leave, Brienne. Please.”

His head spun, his hand throbbed, and his chest ached with the weight of twelve years of pretense resting upon him. 

He watched her sniff, her blue eyes harboring a storm he had managed to brew all on his own. It was better if she left; better if he wasn’t reminded of how he always managed to ruin even the purest of things in his life. 

“Stop wallowing in self pity,” she managed to sniff out, “the look doesn’t suit you.” She slammed the door on her way out. 

Jaime groaned. Stupid, idiotic, honorable cow. Even when angry at him she couldn’t find the words to insult him. 

\----

Three times had Brienne considered going back in there and telling him off; and three times she had chickened out. 

She had even rehearsed the speech inside her head. She would first accuse him of being a selfish ass, then proceed to threaten him with one of her own punches if he ever dared to insult her again, and she would finish with giving him an actual slap for allowing himself to brood. 

Three times she had approached his door. Three times she had walked away. 

The first time, she had gotten as far as resting her hand on the doorknob, before having heard his groan coming from the inside, followed by a string of curses which had made Brienne blush, and quickly dart away from the corridor before Dayne or Frey could have seen her.

The second time, she had stood outside for a whole minute; staring at the door, worrying her lip, her hands fidgeting nervously. She had suddenly dropped her notes and coffee mug, with the thumping sound having echoed through the hall. She had then heard his slurred inquiries regarding the sudden commotion. She had not even bothered to clean up her mess before having bolted from his door. 

The third time, she had stayed right at the edge of the corridor, next to one of the nursing stations; swiftly evading one of the nurse’s complaints by having pretended to check on a patient's chart, when she had been privy to watch two people enter his room. 

One had been a woman; slim, delicate, golden, and perfect. The other had been a man, a dwarf dressed in a sharp suit and with a grandiose laugh which had carried all the way over to where Brienne had been standing. 

She had lingered around for a couple of minutes, curious as to who they were (although she had a pretty good idea of whom they could have been) and how they would respond to seeing Jaime Lannister in such a state. 

Because the second floor’s nurses were gossips, and Jaime Lannister had a line of at least five young female nurses all eager to tend and help him. 

Brienne had kept a sharp ear, and in three days she had managed to find out the man had stubbornly refused to be bathed, would usually have to be force-fed and would properly insult every single person who dared to enter his room; reserving the best of them for his own assigned surgeon.

The man was a mess. 

Brienne was a mess. Anger and worry mixed inside her. She longed to see him better, just as much as she longed to give him a punch of her own. 

The woman and man had come back out not five minutes after they had gone inside. Both had exited in anger, exchanging brief words before having proceeded to completely ignore the other. 

The blond woman (with green eyes so alike Jaime's Brienne hadn’t needed confirmation as to who she was) had landed her calculating gaze upon Brienne and had given a quick scoff, one filled with unmasked disgust and irritation, before having strutted away. The man had held Brienne’s gaze for a little while longer, having made Brienne squirm under his inquisitive stare; one green eye, one black eye, both filled with a striking intelligence and knowledge that the one who had ended up running away from the corridor had been her. 

Three times she had tried; three times she had failed. 

“He hasn’t eaten today.”

“Who hasn't?” Brienne absentmindedly asked, as she checked her patient’s latests vital signs and wrote them down on her evaluation note. 

Nurse Moore raised her eyebrows, suppressing a teasing smile as she finished her sentence with an air of nonchalance which had Brienne lifting her gaze from her note in confusion. Moore was known for her flamboyant personality. 

“The lord himself.”

“He hasn’t eaten in almost two days now,” a fellow intern added. 

Brienne huffed.  _ Idiot _ . Also, not her problem. 

“Ever since his sister visited him. By the way, did you take a good look at the woman’s coat?”

Brienne allowed the young nurse and intern to freely gossip; her ear turning deaf to their voices as she went inside her own mind, trying to deftly manage her emotions. 

Confusion still reigned, but as the days had progressed, a sense of genuine concern had managed to grow within her. The man had been an ass towards her. He had managed to insult her and drive her away, but he was still a patient on  _ her _ floor. A patient who stubbornly continued to refuse help and attendance. 

The fourth time she tried to visit, she finally breached the threshold. 

Lying on the bed, almost unmoving and unreactive to his surroundings; with his external fixator and the two IV lines connected to him in full view. He looked like half a corpse and half a god.

His beard, normally trimmed and kept unshaved for no longer than a day, could now be properly viewed; unkempt as it was. His hair looked greasy and almost pale; the golden aura it usually gave off nowhere to be seen. His skin still remained somewhat colored, if only compared alongside her own pale frame. His eyes- his eyes refused to lock with hers as she ungraciously entered his room. 

For a whole minute the only sound inside the room was the steady beating of the vital signs monitor. Jaime’s heartbeat counting the seconds, its high pitch resonating through the room, making Brienne feel both relieved and suffocated.

“You haven’t eaten.”

His chuckle was almost sardonic, definitely self-pitying. Brienne felt her initial anger resurface. 

“Here to play nurse, Brienne?”

“I’m here because you haven’t eaten. Or showered. Or accepted any help from the nursing staff, and continue to sound off Qyburn and anyone else who dares to enter this room.”

He gave her no reply, his silent response unnerving Brienne. She had expected some kind of retaliation on his part; a string of insults, cries of bitterness and exasperation. She hadn’t prepared for silence. 

“You haven’t lost your hand, doctor. Not even a finger.”

“Are you really so innocent, or are you simply fundementally stupid?”

She startled at his sudden outburst; voice cracking with what seemed like incredulence, green eyes snapping towards her faster than she had ever seen him move. But Brienne did not lose her stand. She had expected the unmeasured, angered reaction. 

“My work is my life, without a fully functioning hand I can’t do my work. I can't do my job!”

She had seen him angry, tired, sad, joyful, even playful; but she had never seen him in despair. It unnerved Brienne. 

“You have to try.”

His laugh pierced through her, but she stood her ground; finding within herself a sense of determination to try and get some sense knocked into him. Because Jaime Lannister was a lot of things, one of them being he was the best surgeon Brienne had ever had the privilege to witness at work. She couldn’t allow him to give up.

“Do I? So I go to physical therapy, I put in the work, and I regain most of my mobility. Then what? Who the fuck will hire a thrice-dammed surgeon? The NIH has already threatened to suspend me on ‘administrative leave’ which will eventually be prolonged into an early ‘honorable discharge’, for whatever the fuck the word  _ honorable _ entials.”

“If you don’t at least try to hold a scalpel in your hand again, you will never be able to live with yourself.”

“You think you know me so well, intern?”

“No. But I know _ I _ wouldn’t be able to live with the fact that, having the opportunity, I didn’t even  _ try _ .”

He cursed her inside his head. What did she know? She was barely twenty-three, with her best years still ahead of her and more talent in a single finger than most residents he had instructed and seen over the years had ever possessed. He was thirty-seven, tainted with false blood, and freshly incapacitated with an injury not even the best hand surgeon on this side of the country could accuratly predict its prognosis. He could feel his clock ticking; could feel the once spinning world around him coming to sudden and brusque stop. 

He had  _ been _ nothing but his hands ever since he had taken hold of his first scalpel at the age of sixteen. He did not know how to be anything else. 

“Eat. Or I won’t discharge you.”

Her voice, deprived of its previous intensity yet still harboring a sense of command, piqued his interest once more. 

He turned his head towards her; slower than before, with a softer gaze, one almost reminiscent of his teasing glances. Brienne would have never guessed she would one day end up finding his annoying persona almost endearing. 

“You?”

“It looks like it. Apparently a family member has vouched for my credibility and performance. Karstark consented to put you under my care if I agreed. I hadn’t.”

Family member? Daven had left Harrenhal a day after his surgery, claiming he couldn’t postpone his initial return day to the Vale; something about a scheduled surgery involving a member of the Royal Family. Tyrion had questioned him about the incident, but Jaime could barely even remember the conversation with enough clarity; his senses at the time of his siblings’ visit having been dulled from both a healthy dose of opiates and anger. Cersei, Cersei had only sneered and taken to insulting both him and his intern without shame. Jaime did remember throwing his sister out after she had insinuated Brienne to having been nothing more than a common whore. 

“What changed your mind then  _ -intern _ ?”

She locked eyes with him. 

Blue. Calm. Safe. 

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t try to help you, knowing I could have.”

\-------

She discharged him three days later. 

\-----

_ ‘Do I still need to send pictures of my meals to you? Or do you trust me enough to actually follow through on your orders?’ _

Brienne’s phone dinged while in the middle of a class being presented by one of the second-year residents. Her face grew a slight shade of pink as she realized she still hadn’t changed her phone alarms and notification sounds. It became a full blush when she realized who the person texting her was. 

_ ‘In class. No proof needed.’ _

She put her phone away, praying he wouldn’t answer back. 

_ ‘I feel like we’ve reached a new understanding, intern.’ _

It dinged again. She postponed looking at it until she was safely back inside the intern’s oncall room, away from prying eyes and gossip inclined staff.

_ ‘Not your intern anymore, dr Lannister.’ _

_ ‘Jaime’ _

_ ‘???’ _

_ ‘My name’s Jaime, Brienne.’ _   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun little fact. There was this one intern I knew who broke his left foot during his ER rotation -they didn't make him stay to complete his shift, but after giving him ten days off he had to return to work -cast and all. I thought about him a lot while writing this chapter.


	4. something that will haunt me when you're not around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude. Brienne is finally done with her internship but the ghosts of the past don't fully leave her in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and left either kudos or a comment. Kudos back to you! 
> 
> Next part. A short one. 
> 
> As always, all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title from Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift.

The email arrived late in the afternoon, while Brienne had been finishing off a fencing match demonstration at Morningstar Prepschool. Sweaty and filled with a familiar rush of adrenaline from getting to wield her trusted sable once again, she checked her phone and proceeded to proficiently drop it once she recognized the Institute’s email address. 

She waited until she arrived home to read its contents. 

Her father greeted her with a soft smile, his girlfriend nodding in silent recognition. Brienne paid neither the attention they deserved as she bolted from her home’s entrance towards her childhood room without meeting either of them in the eye.

Brienne had been staying on Tarth for almost two weeks now. She had arrived on the first day of the Long Night celebrations, eager to see her father and her island, and more than glad to finally be home after a full year of hard work and long days. The holiday's festivities had ended three days ago, but Selwyn had managed to convince his only child of staying for at least another week on their island. 

It hadn’t been a difficult feat. Brienne had been longing for home and for familiarity -for  _ months _ . She had been eager to leave the Riverlands and the ghosts of a hard and brutal internship behind. 

She stared at the email, paced her room, bit her nails, and counted to a hundred before opening the message. 

“I passed.”

“Brie?”

“It’s noon, you should be awake.” She mumbled, almost absentmindedly as her brain continued to refuse to properly function. “Renly, I passed.”

The groggy voice of a barely awake Renly mumbled a couple of words which Brienne could not fully understand with her brain still going at a thousand miles an hour, her excitement barely containable. 

“You idiot. I just received the email. I passed the residency exam. I’m going to be able to apply for a surgical residency.”

\---------------

“Why in bloody hell did you apply  _ here _ , again? With your scores I would have at least tried Harrenhal -The Citadel!” Renly grunted as he helped Brienne move her drawer; a heavy wooden contraption he had no idea how she had managed to ship from her bloody island to the crowded and far too narrow streets of King's Landing.

“The Citadel? Are you insane?”

“You scored a seventy-nine. I’ve known people who have been admitted there with less than that.”

Brienne eyed her friend with a judging glance. She might have not been the quickest when it came to popular culture or society standards and rules; she had never been one to bother much with trying to fit in the world or understand it. Things made sense inside hospital walls; outside everything was far more complicated, messier, harsher. Still, Brienne was not so incredulous as to believe someone without any political influence could be easily admitted to The Citadel. 

The Citadel was the oldest of institutions in Westeros; a grand building built even before the Silver Age of Heroes. It was home to the finest minds of the country. Professors, maesters and alchemists who took pride in being a part of an establishment said to have even survived the wrath of dragons. The Citadel's hospital was the most prestigious of the NIH institutes, and the most sought out residency program in both Westeros and Essos. It was filled with Royal Family relations and the sons and daughters of the richest and most powerful families of the country. 

Jaime Lannister had graduated from The Citadel. 

“Yes; important people, powerful people. I’m no one. They would have laughed in my face and told me to go back to Tarth.” She grunted. “What’s wrong with KL, anyway? You’re here, in case you’ve forgotten.” A fact Brienne wouldn’t put pass her friend.

"I had few program choices, KL suited me fine." 

"So it has nothing to do with the fact that Loras has always said he wants to stay in the capital?" 

Renly flipped her off, making Brienne roll her eyes. 

"That still doesn't explain why you would choose this shit city. I have my reasons, whether you approve of them or not; I still don't understand yours."

Brienne sighed, she didn't want to elaborate; she had been successfully evading answering said question for weeks now. Her father had been kind enough to not press when she had informed him she would try and persuade a spot in KL's surgical program. His girlfriend had tried to pry it out of her over morning coffee; but Brienne had once vowed to never overshare anything far too personal with any of her father's liaisons until he proved he could hold on to them for more than a couple of months. 

Loras had been the closest to have gotten a confession out of her, an accomplishment not even having meant to have been fulfilled. He had called Brienne to inquire about Harrenhal, and about the way the hospital had been changed ever since the Lannister and Mummers accident. 

She had nearly commented on the subject before remembering that, same as with the bet incident, her name had been spared in the official records. 

“It’s a good program. Selmy graduated from KL, and so did Darry. They’re good enough surgeons; some of the best.”

“What about Harrenhal?”

Brienne let go of her dresser, the wood making a loud thump as it hit the ground while Renly let out a cry of anguish as the entire weight of it shifted towards him. 

“I’m starting at King’s Landing’s General Hospital in two weeks. Leave it, Renly.”

Renly left her alone; his ever-kind blue eyes darting to meet hers every time she winced or cursed under her breath trying to reorganize the few pieces of furniture she had shipped over from her old home to Renly’s apartment. 

They had pizza for dinner and they spent the rest of the night listening to old music and reminiscing about their prep school years. 

Brienne tried to enjoy herself as much as she could with the looming cloud of Harrenhal and Jaime Lannister hanging over her. She couldn’t avoid the explanation forever; Renly was known for his insistence and his annoying patience. 

He lasted two nights before broaching the subject once more; this time after having convinced her to drink one cup of wine with her dinner. 

She glared at him as he asked, “I know I don’t normally drink, but it takes more than one glass of wine to get me drunk.”

“It’s comes from a place of genuine curiosity. There is no malice in my inquiry, I promise. Brienne, you shut down after that first month during your surgery rotation. One minute you were the queen of the operating rooms at Harrenhal, the next I could barely get you on the phone for more than a minute without you shutting me out. You haven’t pushed me away ever since the Loras thing.”

Brienne scoffed again. 

“The Loras thing? Honestly, Renly.” It was so like him to try and deprive of importance that one particular event in their friendship. “I’ve already given you my reason. It’s a good program. Besides,” she sipped her wine, “I got tired of Harrenhal.”

His blue eyes never once left hers as she spoke, his lips thinned in the barest of smiles; the same one Brienne would use to cling to and fantasize about during her teenage years. He was playing dirty. 

“Lannister’s accident wasn’t actually an accident. There was a fight. I fought. Kicked a guy named Zollo’s ass. I got distracted. I didn’t even see Hoat get up and push the damned locker stall. Jaime did, he pushed me away. The stall fell on his hand.”

Renly’s face went white, his glass of wine forgotten. 

“Every damned time I returned to that corridor -to that  _ floor _ , I could still hear his scream.” Brienne took another sip of her drink, her blue eyes not daring to reach over to lock with her friend’s. “I don’t think I could go back.”

Renly’s hand darted across the kitchen table to reach hers, engulfing it with a familiar warmth Brienne had missed during the year she had been an intern. 

The rest of the story spilled from her lips as the days went by. 

\---------

After a couple more days, and once Brienne had fully settled in, Renly returned to his residency. The future internist's days became filled with tedious work once again, while his nights off were now used to show his friend around the city which had taken him in for almost a year. 

“Do you still keep in touch with Cersei? Or Stannis?”

“You have his number; call him if you want to talk to him.”

Brienne glared, throwing one of her fries at Renly. She had kept Jaime’s number as she had kept most of her teacher’s phone numbers; safe in her contacts list. After that first day after his release from the hospital, she had never heard from him again, and she had been more than happy to start putting the incident -the entire month- behind her. 

“No. The bitch stopped calling when the court released their official statement following my brother's death. That only Joffrey had been Robert's; the other two little golden cubs had been fathered by two different, unknown men. The woman raged and cursed, tried to countersue; but quickly faded into where Lannisters fade when they want to lick their wounds. I hadn’t even heard of her until her accident on the Trident a few months back.”

Brienne remembered the occasion well enough. Jaime had been frantic and far more distracted than he usually was during the entire duration of his shift. She had even dared to take the driver from his hand before it had finished slipping from his grasp. It had been the first and only time he hadn't teased her for overstepping. 

“I know that face. It's your ‘guilt’ face. Whatever happened to Lannister after he left Harrenhal is not your fault. You did your best by him. You always do, Brienne. You truly are too good for us, especially me.”

Of that last assessment Brienne had no doubt. 

She fidgeted with a fry for a couple of seconds before popping it in her mouth. 

“Fine. Now, who are the jerks at KL I have to punch, again? And who are the ones I have to steer clear off?”

Renly proceeded to gladly report on the various characters and diverse personalities of King’s Landing General Hospital for the next hour, amusing Brienne enough to be able to repackage Harrenhal and Jaime Lannister to the back of her mind, where they both belonged and had been well kept for some time. 

After Lannister had been released from Harrenhal following his surgery, Brienne had naively thought the turmoil they had created would have gone away with him. It hadn’t. 

The rest of her surgery rotation passed in a blur of slurs and insults; only this time with the extent of their origin not being limited to her fellow interns and residents, but expanding to the attending surgeons and nursing staff. People who had once respected her work, had now scolded her and made cruel and lewd jokes at her expense. 

Catelyn had tried to defend her; she had suggested and even encouraged a change or a transfer. Brienne had held her ground, insisting the acceptance of said offers would only ensure the increase of the rumors and jests in both number and potency. 

Her final rotation had been through the Emergency Room. 

She had been glad for it; for the busy streets of the Riverlands had never failed to make sure all kinds of trouble efficiently arrived at Harrenhal’s vast and fully equipped emergency room. 

Her brain had remained busy, her hands dutiful, and she had found herself losing five pounds in less time than had probably been healthy. 

When she had thought the worst behind, his voice had come -without warning or reserve- ringing inside her mind. 

_ “Are you really so innocent, or are you simply fundementally stupid?” _

His screams had sounded off inside her mind, loud and almost tangible, making Brienne stumble while she had been changing from her working uniform into a pair of new scrubs. 

She had then realized, it had been the first time she had stepped inside the locker rooms ever since the accident. 

She had cried for an hour. 

When her final rotation had finally concluded, Brienne had felt like she could finally,  _ properly _ , take a breath. It was over. No more all-nighters, no more death sentences she couldn’t avoid, no more blood and guts and reprimands from not having the latest laboratory results ready in time for early morning rounds. 

She had slept for almost the entire day afterwards. 

She applied for the resident’s exam even against her father’s wishes. She had been working at a private, small Riverlands clinic for a little over a moon’s turn and had grown desperate to immerse herself in the chaotic world of a larger hospital. She longed to feel engulfed by the sense of madness that was created by having the different departments and specialties trying their hardest to save patients while trying to not murder each other in the process. 

When she had read her final score, the first word which had come almost unbidden to the front of her mind had been one she had not thought about in weeks:  _ Harrenhal _ .

So, she had sent forward her application letter to King’s Landing. Renly would be there, and Loras was also set to finally start his internship in the city, after taking an entire year off to compete at the fencing nationals. 

She would have friends at KL, friends and a nonexistent reputation.

\--------

She started in a day. One more day, and she would once more become a slave of the system. Another link in an ever growing and changing chain. She was excited, had been talking about nothing else for days. She was also terrified. 

Renly assured her it was normal. Loras had already started his internship at KLG and grew ever more impatient to have another friend inside the red walls of the Hospital. 

Feeling excited and terrified only made Brienne giddy with excess energy. Her body ached for either a good spar or a good fight. 

Her fencing sable, a delicate thing which her father had commissioned to have been forged in the old armory of Evenfall Hall -now University, remained at home; safely tucked beneath her old bed and her even older dreams of becoming a fencing master. 

But she still had her body, still in relative good shape even after a year of putting her training aside. She had learned to box at a young age, but had never properly trained until she had arrived at Evenfall University, forced to abandon fencing as she focused on her studies. She had been proficient enough to make the University’s team but had declined the position. Still, her coach would rave about her strength and build to everyone who would lend him an ear. She hadn’t enjoyed it as much as fencing, but it had required less commitment. 

Renly had left his gym card on top of her new apartment keys and, not for the first time, Brienne was grateful for Renly’s presence in her life. 

The Dragon Pit was not far from their apartment, so Brienne took the luxury of walking there. Gym bag over her shoulder, newly shortened hair barely making a ponytail, sunglasses covering most of her face; she blended as much as she could with the ongoing crowd in the city. She was just one more soul trying to make her way across the smelly and hot burrows of King’s Landing. Even if she did tower over almost everyone. 

Renly’s card was required to be used in order to gain entrance to the building; a small, yet well equipped gym center. Brienne had to take it out of her gym bag, biting her lip as she tried to somehow balance her weight while rummaging through the bottomless sack.

“I swore I -”

“Brienne Tarth.”

The voice.  _ His _ voice. Not a scream, but her name. 

She dropped her bag. 

\-----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did in fact sleep for almost an entire day after I finished my internship. 
> 
> Getting a 79 in a residency exam is no joke. I got a 68 and am damn proud of it. 
> 
> Next chapter should be up tomorrow.


	5. i'm glad i can't go back to where i came from

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude. Jaime broods some more. Tyrion tries to knock some sense into him. Blue eyes follow him everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part. Another short one. 
> 
> All mistakes are still and will always be my own.
> 
> Title from Maybe It's Time from the A Star is Born soundtrack.

Jaime hadn't seen anybody for a full week before grudgingly throwing Tyrion out of his room when he had tried to visit him. His little brother had arrived during the morning, bearing news of their family which Jaime had had no interest in knowing; so he had cursed at him and had proceeded to threaten his brother out of his apartment. 

His hand was broken, his life put on hold -and what was worse, he couldn’t stop seeing her _ godsdamn _ blue eyes every time he closed his own. 

“You can’t shut everyone out, Jaime,” Tyrion had said from his apartment’s front door. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

As promised, Tyrion had gone back and Jaime had thrown him out once more. The routine continued for days, until almost another week had gone by and with bags under his eyes from lack of proper rest and pain he could no longer bear, he had asked his brother if had planned to keep on insisting on being welcomed into his miserable life. Tyrion had proceeded to slap him, hard and without any kind of reservations, before he had started to properly insult him for a full minute. 

Jaime had allowed him to stay that day -and for the rest of the month. 

\-----

“When are you going to get that _ thing _ taken off?”

Tyrion had been oddly quiet for the better part of the day; had mostly spent it inside Jaime’s guest room doing whatever it was lawyers could do when working from their home office. His voice startled Jaime from his almost stuporous state. 

“I need to get evaluated. In oh, two weeks? I don’t actually _ know _. I’m a general surgeon, not a fucking trauma one.”

Tyrion nodded, his face betraying no expression, before resuming his previous attitude of a workaholic hermit inside his borrowed room. Jaime groaned. If his little brother insisted on being within his presence, the least he could have done was pretend to care. 

\-----

It took a couple of days, but Tyrion’s looming presence, without it becoming overbearing, managed to get Jaime off from his couch and seemingly back into the world of the living. 

He shaved (as best he could with his non-dominant hand), he started eating, and even managed to convince his brother to help him shower. 

Tyrion had helped him once, to the best of the younger Lannister’s abilities, before verbally threatening to have Jaime’s cock removed if he didn’t learn to at least shower by himself. 

It took two full weeks before the brothers started communicating in something other than insults and sneers. 

“What happened, then? If it wasn’t as accidental as everyone is claiming this shit to have been.” 

Three beers in to celebrate the fact they had a date set for the removal of the damned contraption which kept his hand from falling apart, Jaime looked at his brother over the rim of his glass; his third drink almost finished. 

“Don’t,” he threatened; finishing his drink in a quick gulp. He wasn't drunk enough for this.

“You haven’t said anything about that day. Or about the giantess of an intern who lingered over your supposed deathbed-”

“Fuck off, Tyrion.”

“You called her _ exactly _ that, that day we were supid enough to come visit you at the hospital.”

“I’m not drunk enough for this.” Jaime got up from his couch; his right hand still aching even after maxing out his pain meds. He supposed he shouldn’t have drunk, but he was well past the point of caring. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spent more than two bloody weeks without working. For years, his entire existence had revolved around the hospital and around Cersei; he had known nothing but the cold feel of a scalpel in his hand and his twin’s sweet mouth over his body. 

And now?

He had lost Cersei years ago; a relationship built on selfishness and laced with threads of an egocentric and pathological love which had been bound to collapse from the first moment their fourteen year-old selves had managed to fuck without anyone being aware of it. Jaime considered grabbing something stronger than beer for daring his mind to wander through such darkened waters. 

He had been learning to live with the fact his sweet sister had betrayed him and had used him for most of their twisted lives, while still harboring love for her. They were twins, siblings with a bond that, as much as Jaime wanted to, he could not suppress or deny. He had grown to almost hate her golden locks, her green eyes so like his own, her lithe and firm body, her sweet caresses and sweeter cunt. 

He couldn’t stand the thought of losing the only part of him which had still made sense to him, after the wild and consuming termination of that which had been his twisted relationship with his sister. 

He grabbed another beer.

“Her name’s Brienne, and I am sure you do remember her name, for you always remember everything. You and your Maester worthy mind. Fuck me.”

“Oh, come on,” Tyrion moaned. “Don't start selling yourself short. You did manage to finish medschool," he took a swig of beer, "even with dyslexia and Cersei’s leash firmly wrapped around your neck.”

Jaime threw his brother a glare but did not deny the accusation. 

He let a few seconds pass without comment. Weighing the consequences of letting Tyrion in on what had become his more than fucked up life. 

“Bloody intern started a fight,” he drank, “not intentionally- at least, I don’t think it was intentional. I could never tell when she was simply playing dumb or was actually truly inoccent of the world around her.”

Tyrion refrained from commenting, only took a swig of his own drink and watched with careful eyes how his brother’s stance changed from that of the cold-hearted surgeon he presented to the world, into his brother; the man who had begged him to finish his prep school essays and the same man who had come crawling to his door with three golden haired children mere months ago, when their sister had found it funny to try and drive her car off a bridge. 

“Bloody girl threw a punch. She should have just let them punch me for a couple of more seconds. She should have screamed, reacted like a fucking normal twenty-three year-old. But no; idiotic, noble, stubborn _ cow _ had to go try and defend her own honor! I lost sight of fucking Hoat, but never of her.”

Tyrion saw it then, the regret in his brother's eyes; a regret and a sense of responsibility that swiftly transformed into guilt. He had only seen his brother desperate enough to drown his sorrows in alcohol once, when Aerys had been declared dead a mere month after the Valyrian clinic had closed. 

\---------

When Jaime woke up around noon the next day, throwing up in his own living room, cursing every time he moved a muscle, shouting at his brother with no apparent reason or goal; Tyrion understood Jaime's pain went beyond physicalities. 

Jaime’s life had been torn apart in less than three years. And with no Cersei to distract him, Tyrion had no clue as to how they were supposed to fix him back up again. 

\----

Her eyes never managed to leave him. Blue, wide, open, honest, mesmerizing, haunting, hypnotic eyes which Jaime cursed every time he tried to wallow in his own grief and they wouldn't allow him to do so. 

His second surgery came and went by. 

Qyburn greeted him with an almost caring smile. Catelyn went by to see him once, a meeting Jaime was eager to quickly forget. Even Karstrak enjoyed visiting, simply to watch him squirm with nausea. He got the external fixator removed and gained watchful pairs of eyes; none of them the ones which frequently haunted his dreams. 

Jaime cursed her again. 

\-------

“Where are you _ now _?”

“You’re not my babysitter anymore, you actually never were. You were this annoying little pest who decided to crash at my place for a whole month while I tried to die in peace.” He tried to jest with ease, but the bitterness he had been trying to remove from his thoughts and actions, came to lace his words without reserve. 

Tyrion remained calm, for he knew there was no better way of getting his brother to spiral down the rabbit hole of self-deprecation than to try and argue him out of it. He hadn’t called with that particular motive in mind. “You didn’t lose your hand, Jaime.”

His brother’s soft spoken words opened Jaime with an ever sharper cut than his best scalpel could have made. Uninvited, her voice came to him. For months now, he had not heard her; yet his brother’s words rang with the same kind of sincere _ care _ she had let slip during those final moments at Harrenhal. 

“Tell that to _ her _.”

It was a low blow, a desperate man’s move; but Jaime needed a quick way to divert his mind from wandering too long inside his Harrenhal box of memories. And nothing ever did work quite as efficiently as replacing it with another box equally filled with heartbreak. 

“Our sister's an idiot, and you’re an even bigger idiot to still care for her opinion of you. You know you won’t- you can’t be denied the kids if it comes to that; with Myrcella actually being _ yours _.”

Jaime’s stomach clenched as he allowed himself to think about his daughter; about her gentle golden curls and innocent green eyes. It had pained Jaime to have the truth of his sister's deceptions thrown so bluntly in his face. Robert Baratheon’s death two years ago had shaken most of the Crownlands. A golden Lannister, entitled to her own fortune, had been set to inherit a great portion of the Stag Empire for her and her three children. The eldest of the Baratheon brothers had surprised them all when he had petitioned for Robert’s paternity to be proven. 

Jaime had raged at Cersei, had tried to get the truth out from her; but his twin had kept on insisting the three to have been Robert’s. 

His DNA had already been in the system; his little episode with Aerys and Valyrian had made sure of that. Thus, it had come as a surprise when he had received a letter from the Crownlands Investigations Bureau informing him of his paternity of one Myrcella Baratheon. 

Tyrion had arrived at Harrenhal the next day. His brother had then proceeded to inform Jaime of the entire situation. Cersei had started sleeping with other men from the moment Jaime had gone away to Seven Kingdom’s University in KL. She had never remained faithful, not as Jaime had; not as he had idiotically believed she had. Out of the three children she had passed as Robert’s offspring, only the eldest carried Baratheon blood and would be eligible to inherit the Stag shares from his deceased father. The other two had been sired by different men. The system had chimed with Jaime’s name under Myrcella’s; while sweet Tommen had the pleasure of having one of Cersei’s old university flames as his father. To this day the children still had no idea of their unfortunate parenting. 

“Leave Myrcella out of this. The three of them are scared shitless of what would happen to them if they lose their mother. They’ve already lost their father.”

“Only Joffrey’s lost his father. You and Osmund are still living.”

“I can’t risk her denying me access to them. I can’t-”

“Where the fuck _ are _ you? I can hear the honks, so I know you’re in some city. I’ve been trying to reach you for three days now and finally, finally I go and think: who the fuck would know where my idiot of a brother has hidden himself this time? Only to find out from Addam fucking Marbrand, you’ve moved to fucking King’s Landing?”

Ah, there it was. 

“If you already knew, why ask?”

“What the fuck are you doing back in KL. If Tywin gets word of you being so close to-”

“I haven’t touched her in two years, almost three. And relax, I do want to see Myrcella more often, but that’s not why I am here.”

He could practically see Tyrion’s exasperated expression; eyes closed, nose pinched. 

“You think you’re acting clever, you’re not. Just tell me, before I burst from anticipation.”

Jaime chuckled, grunting as he tripped over a loose tile on the floor of the hotel lobby where he had been staying for the past week.

“The only thing you’ve ever bust of is-”

“Jaime!”

“KL’s General hospital is letting me scrub in during their night shift. Payne called me about a week ago; said he had read my heavily-influenced-by-alcohol email and that sure, he would allow me to scrub in if I didn’t mind him occasionally hitting me and verbally destroying me. I figured it couldn’t be worse than learning from Hightower, so- I packed?”

Silence ruled their conversation, the only sound being exchanged between the brothers being the soft ding from the elevator as Jaime climbed inside it. 

“Well, fuck me. You’re actually going to do it?”

“Tyrion-”

“No, I’m- I’m proud of you. What finally convinced you?”

Unbidden, her eyes came to the front of his mind. He wouldn’t grant his brother as much. Her presence was a haunt that on better days filled him with guilt, and on worse with something close to despair. They were a reminder of what he had once been; a reminder of what he had done, of what he had become. 

“I haven’t lost my hand.” 

\-------

Payne was going to end up killing him. The man had not lied when he had threatened Jaime of not offering any sort of charity towards him. His hand _ hurt _. True, it still froze up when pushed past the point of exhaustion, but he was finally able to carry out a complete procedure without fault or worry. He wasn’t as swift or agile as he had been before; but his movements were sure and steady and if he was not forced to prolong his hours he could very well cover for Payne. 

But the man did not know the meaning of exhaustion, or decency. 

It hadn’t even taken a complete month before Jaime had snapped at his friend; almost proceeding to break his right wrist once more. 

Payne had stared long and hard; had let Jaime insult him and the entire room, before quietly throwing him a gym card. 

“Ask for Forel. Don’t fucking release your shit out on me, or the patient. He’ll help you to not break your fist -again.”

It had been better than the psychologist his brother had wanted to make him see back when he wouldn’t even get off his couch; far better than the psychiatrist his father had managed to force upon him when he had found out about Myrcella and Cersei. 

Forel was odd, but it was his oddity which made Jaime trust him. He didn’t treat Jaime any differently than the rest of his charge. The braavosi man spat on and on about energy and about balance and inner core strength. He managed to teach Jaime how to throw a punch without compromising his wrist. 

So Jaime took to throwing calculated, but effective punches at an unmoving target, instead of at Payne. 

\------

He had not thought about her in more than three months; with his hand almost back at its original strength, the NIH finally passing his ‘honorary discharge’ sentence and Cersei threatening to keep the children from him if he ever tried to contact Myrcella again without her knowledge (the girl had called him after an incident at her afternoon ballet class and hadn’t been able to reach her mother). Jaime’s brain had been busy. 

But there were only so many astoundingly tall, blond, young women in Westeros. And only one with eyes as blue as the waters surrounding her bloody island. 

She was rummaging through her gym bag; sunglasses perched up on her head, dressed in black gym clothing and muttering things under her breath with a set brow which made Jaime’s memories of Harrenahl come flooding to invade his mind. 

“I swore I-”

“Brienne Tarth,” he called; a grin on his face as he watched her freeze. 

She dropped her bag. 


	6. we're far from the shallow now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is a first year at King's Landing General hospital, she learns what that means and how to navigate through this change in her life. To make her life more interesting Jaime Lannister has reappeared in her life.
> 
> Or: Brienne and Jaime reconnect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, commented or left kudos. Always. 
> 
> Notes on this one: I am issuing a warning, because I feel like I need to, because we are used to reading about people getting killed by guns or violence, but we're not really used to reading about death in the circumstances which I present it in this one. It's a doctor AU, so a patient dies, but I describe the event rather... specifically without really being explicit or gruesome, it's just real. 
> 
> And when I write real, I mean real. I based that particular scene on a case which I witnessed. A friend of mine was the anesthesiology resident on call and it was a very hard shift to get through -for all of us. 
> 
> A lot of other things happen in this one, and as we go on the chapters will just get longer and longer.
> 
> All mistakes are still mine. Chapter title from Shallow from A Star is Born.

Jaime kept trying to get her to break; the entire interaction so reminiscent of their earliest conversations he could not stop the smirk which came upon his face as he followed her around the gym. 

“ _ Of course _ you box, with your build how could you not?”

Nothing. 

“Still a striking conversationalist, I see. Is it truly so horrible having run into me? I didn’t think we’d ended up on such frigid terms.”

A quick glance, one promptly reverting to her hands as she finished bandaging them up. Deft hands, large hands, gentle hands. 

“Am I going to get an actual answer out of you, or would you prefer to beat me bloody and then silently rejoice in your triumph? I don’t think my hand has recovered enough to take  _ you _ on, though. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

The mention of his injured hand piqued Brienne's interest. Her eyes, blue as ever, drifting towards his right wrist, hovering there, observing every twitch, every move he made. 

“It looks-”

“Decent?”

She finally turned towards him; her taut body sitting on a bench, while he casually rested his own form against the door frame. 

“As if the incident hadn’t happened. You have been rotating your wrist without care for a good minute now.”

“Oh trust me, intern. It happened.”

“I’m not your intern anymore. I’m not anyone’s intern anymore.”

He crooked his head to the side, trying to get a full read on her, now that she was finally allowing him the opportunity. Her hair was shorter, pulled tight in a low ponytail; her eyes clearer, rested now from not having to pull thirty-six hour shifts every couple of days; her body was-  _ stronger _ , muscled arms and legs which had been usually well hidden beneath coats and scrubs, were now on display. She possessed a strong body and an even stronger character as she stared him down. 

“Yes, you’re right. What are you now, then? Why are you here in KL? I do remember you being from Tarth; wanting to go back to the Stormlands after you finished the year.”

She flushed, but did not move her gaze from his own. She was trying to stand her ground, to not make him forget the fact he held no control over her. Jaime could not help but wonder the reason for her determination to antagonize  _ him _ . He had been just one of the many attending surgeons and doctors she had worked under at Harrenhal. He straightened as his right hand twitched with the memory of a fight once thought lost. Brienne had been many things; stubborn, awkward, proficient, a prodigy with a scalpel. Most of all, she had been honest -honest and damn righteous. 

“I start my surgical residency tomorrow; at KL’s General hospital.”

Oh, now that was simply exquisite. Out of all the hospitals she could have chosen  _ -wait _ . 

“KLG?  _ Why _ KLG?” He pressed, taking a few steps towards her, wanting to get a better read of her; wanting to be close enough to fully appreciate her flush, her awkward shifting. 

Brienne groaned, turning her stance away from him again; graciously granting Jaime a full view of her muscled and well toned shoulders and back. 

“Not you as well. Piss  _ off _ , Lannister.”

Her annoyance and dismissal, ignited his own insecurities and anger. Was he so repulsive to her she couldn’t stand to look at him for more than a couple of minutes? “Piss off? Why? Because you feel responsible for the less-than-adequate hand? Pity for it? Because you’ve never had to confront the consequences of your misfortunes?”

She got up on her feet, faster than Jaime had ever seen her move; her face coming to loom above his, set in what Jaime could only describe as a growl. He had angered her. 

“Don’t you dare think you know a thing about me, Lannister,” she spat. “I’m not under your command. I’m not yours to torment, or to bother. I apologized back at Harrenhal; apologized and tended to you and your hand, as was my responsibility. I did my duty and you did yours. Don’t you dare judge me of anything else.”

Her blue eyes fumed with anger; open and vibrant was the hate seeping out of them. 

“I wasn’t trying to.”

She didn’t move, only stared; her breathing hard, her hands fisted and ready to throw a punch at the nearest target. 

“Congratulations on passing the residency exam. KL doesn't deserve you. That much I can safely say.”

The confusion written on her face would have been enough to make Jaime laugh, but he was already running a high risk of acquiring a black eye if he continued to press her. 

For almost the entire time of their brief acquaintance back at Harrenhal he had insistently tried to rattle her; had enjoyed the challenge of trying to get her to anger without ever fully meeting his goal. Watching her stance, Jaime finally understood why the girl preferred not to react to the jests and insults. Brienne lived her life the same way she operated inside an operating room; with precision, with diligence, and with unreserved passion. She didn’t hide from her emotions -she  _ couldn’t _ ; not with the way her eyes gave her soul away. When Brienne angered, she held nothing back. 

“I’ll leave you, doctor Tarth. I hope the stench of the city doesn’t end up nauseating you as much as it does me.”

He gave her a quick smile, as honest as she had ever seen him give. Brienne still didn’t move-  _ couldn't _ move, from where she stood. 

_ Arrogant, smug, handsome, infuriating,  _ ass _ . _

What was  _ he _ doing in King’s Landing? Last she had heard he had undergone his second surgical procedure at Harrenhal without encountering further complications and had been honorably dismissed from the NIH. 

She watched him leave the boxing ring and move towards the wrestling mats where he shook hands with a Braavosi man she had seen around the gym on more than one occasion. 

He used his right hand, she took notice. 

The small smile which crept onto her face only serve to anger her even further and made her snap from her trance. She donned her gloves as she reminisced about Jaime Lannister, Harrenhal and the fact the man had somehow managed to become far more irritating and look even more handsome than she remembered. 

As her fists connected with one of the overhead bags, her brain ran a marathon of its own. Cersei Lannister lived in KL. Had he moved there to be closer to his family? It had taken her a couple days, but with having had nothing much to do during those first few days after finishing her internship, her girlish curiosity had gotten the better of her and she had started digging up the most she could on the infamous Lannisters. It had been how she had managed to find out about the accident which had sent Cersei’s car over a small bridge on the Trident, and had ended with Jaime having to take in his three nephews while his twin recuperated. And how she had managed to trace that first and only other time Lannister had ever arrived late to work, to align with a pompous Lannister family reunion which had ended up plastered all over the gossip columns, as Cersei had decided to take advantage of the evening to cause a ‘drunken spectacle’ which had resulted in her being detained by the Night’s Watch for a full evening. 

She had ended her search when she had found Jaime had been honorably dismissed from the NIH, a form of early retirement which felt more like an insult than a deserved recognition. 

He now looked well enough, his green eyes still holding a sparkle of mirth and pride, his body still strong and -she could now appreciate- well toned, his hair still kept long enough for it to delicately curl around his jaw line. The man was still pretty, and still in one piece. 

Maybe, she thought as she hit the bag with particularly extra strength, maybe she would finally be able to rid herself of the invasive, random thoughts of Jaime Lannister which still plagued her mind. He was doing well, his hand had healed and he did not look like the lost man she had left back at Harrenhal; the ghost of which tended to haunt her mind at odd moments. No, he was back to being every bit the piece of the Warrior she had once dreamt him being. 

She prayed to the Seven he would finally be able to leave her wandering thoughts. 

\------

“Bloody men. Bloody, stupid, fucking  _ men _ !”

Her companion’s voice startled her from where she apparently had fallen asleep. Brienne checked her watch, and couldn’t help but feel both annoyed and relieved at the fact she had only managed to sleep for twenty minutes. 

“Marge, is there a reason why you hate men so? Or have you just carelessly woken me up for no apparent reason? Dondarrion has been up my neck ever since the ER disaster from two days ago and I haven’t slept in a proper bed in- oh, roughly forty-six hours? I need to  _ sleep _ !”

Brienne held no desire for glancing at her own reflection after enduring more than twenty-four hours of arduous work. Not only had she not slept in said hours, but she hadn’t had a proper bath either. Her hair felt greased and stiff from wearing it up and under surgical caps for the better part of the day, her eyes were red and tired, and her face was starting to break out in a way it hadn’t since she had turned twenty. But Margaery Tyrell, a distant relative of Loras’, insisted on taking out her mirror at every opportunity she had and thrusting it up on Brienne’s face. 

It wasn’t a fair happenstance, the fact Margaery Tyrell was the only other woman currently in the surgical residency program at KLG. The girl was the exact opposite of Brienne -in every extent of the word. With a short stature, delicate curves, brown doe-eyes which could seduce even the most faithful of men or women into her bed; she radiated a physical confidence Brienne had only ever found within herself when fighting in a ring or cutting people up inside an OR. 

The young woman was a good asset; she had completed her internship at Samwell’s Wing in Old Town, a branch of the Citadel’s main hospital system. Margaery knew her stuff and most impressively, seemed to not be afraid of the elder residents or of the almost untouchable attending surgeons who enjoyed nothing more than to ridicule their newest pupils. 

Brienne's face had burned bright red with embarrassment and humiliation for the entire first day under their firm and brutal management. With a firm determination which Brienne felt pride in having found, she had restrained her tears until she had arrived home to an inquiring and persistent Renly. 

Her first week was finally ending, with her blushes finally beginning to lessen and her body slowly growing used to the hard working hours and the excruciating pain of constantly having to overwork it for more than it was deemed appropriate. Her legs hurt in a way they hadn’t since she had been an adolescent, and her head thumped with what Brienne knew to be dehydration and probably the starting symptoms of hypoglycemia.

She had only been allowed inside the operating room a single day out of the five she had already found herself running around the halls of KLG. It had occurred during her second night shift; assisting one of the second-year residents and filling in for one of the interns who had thrown up upon getting hit with the distinctive smell of a perforated colon. 

Brienne longed for more time inside her domain, but was well aware she had to earn her dues. And thus, found the inner strength she needed to carry on through the days. 

“Caron let Taena scrub in, the little weasel of a girl. She’s barely twenty-two, and has the cunning of a gumpkin!”

Brienne shook her head, it was too early for such conundrums as Margaery was known to present. 

“You mean a  _ grumkin _ ? Aren’t those part of northern folklore? And hold on, Caron was going to let you scrub in? Why?”

Margaery took her mirror and placed it in front of Brienne, making both women's image appear next to the other's. Brienne burned red with both embarrassment and fury. 

“You know I sometimes can’t get a good read on you, Brienne. You work and move around the floor as if you were the master surgeon and take no bullshit from anyone; and then I blink and you’re turned into the most delicate and sweetest of flowers; innocent, too.”

“Piss off, I haven’t slept enough for this.”

Margaery gave off a small laugh, because everything about the woman was dainty and petite except for her doe-like eyes; wide and soft and carrying a thousand secrets Brienne wasn’t sure she would ever be prepared to know. 

“Don’t forget to remind me to give you my eldest brother's number; you need something to pass the time which doesn’t include reading medical journals or punching people.”

“I don’t actually punch people, and I truly don’t think-”

But Margaery was insistent, a quality which had earned the girl two surgeries during the week, even when with more natural talent, Brienne had only managed one. 

“My brother needs a distraction that isn’t his ex. You’ll adore him, I promise.” 

Brienne was surprised to not find any malice or taunt behind Margaery’s statements. The young woman smiled at Brienne as she offered her a water bottle and a hair comb. Brienne took them both with a kinder smile then she would have given any other resident. 

“Thank you, but I just want to get through this week before -anything else.”

“Now  _ that, _ I can completely relate to.” Margaery agreed, flopping down next to Brienne on their oncall bed. “Being a first year is shit.”

Brienne chuckled as she took a swing of water. The cool temperature of the room mixed in with the refreshing feel of the hydrating liquid against her throat, dutifully finished waking Brienne up.

“Yes, complete shit.”

Both women giggled at the absurdity of their complaints before standing up in order to continue on with their day. 

\------

In a stolen moment of peace, Brienne continued to stare out the corridor’s window. The city looked as if it burned, glowing red with the sun starting to set beyond the hills of the city; beyond Harrenhal, beyond Lannisport and all the way to where the world stopped. 

King’s Landing General Hospital was larger than Harrenhal had been. The holdfast had once served as a separate castle back in the days of kings and queens of old; its tall halls and grander rooms serving to accommodate a greater number of patients than the Riverlands' hospital could. The fact that the city was still ever growing, made KLG a vast and diverse pool of patients, made up from different personalities, ethnicities and diseases; some she would have never been privy to know if Brienne had continued on at Harrenhal -or at the Citadel. 

The building was larger, and yet it somehow felt smaller. Brienne found herself looking for peaceful and calm nooks with a lot more urgency and frequency than she had during her year at Harrenhal. The responsibility of being a medical resident was both daunting and exhilarating. 

Now going on her third night shift, Brienne tried to take a good deep breath in order to steady her running mind before resuming her work. The hours were the same, the exhaustion familiar, yet everything felt as if it had been multiplied by a hundred. 

Out of the seven older residents Brienne could be forced to work under, she had been quick to pick Sandor Clegane as her favorite. The man was gruff, heavy, tended to speak with few words, and was as blunt as one could possibly be. There were no hidden meanings around his insults and he appeared to be immune to the first-years who vehemently tried (and failed) to kiss his ass.

“Fucking cunts.” Sandor growled, startling Brienne out of her almost hypnotic state. “Tarth, get the fucking interns to arrive on fucking time. If I have to listen to Dondarrion go on and on about responsibility and that bloody red god of his for one more minute I will hit one of them so bloody hard they’ll wish they had never arrived at KL.”

Brienne nodded, her blue eyes fixed on the resident’s face, using every piece of strength she possessed to not divert her gaze from his own cold stare. 

“You on shift tonight?”

Brienne nodded.

“Right. Aemon is still out on sick leave. So it’s just you and me, kid.”

“Jon is also on our shift.”

The older and -Brienne had been pleasantly surprised at noting- larger man, threw a small yet amused smirk her way. 

“Just you and I, kid. Jon can go fuck around with the interns until he shows some backbone on that dingy looking body of his.”

Brienne’s eyes widen in apalled shock; she bit her lip in order to try and remain neutral of expression. Jon Targaryen was smart, probably the smartest of all the first years, but also the tamest. Brienne was still the most quiet, but she never hesitated to defended her cases with good insight. Most importantly, she knew how to deftly move and behave around the hospital floors and inside an OR. What she lacked in social skills she more than made up by exceeding at running a floor.

Night fell with ease; with Brienne running around the fifth floor, trying to gather up as many interns as she could in order to warn them of Clegane’s wrath against them, all while trying to finish her own duties. 

Jon sat next to her as she finished typing a note; his face almost as pale as hers, his eyes darkened by an exhaustion she was sure was knew to the northern man. 

“Do you have any clue as to who we’re going to have to keep up with tonight?”

“Clegane,” she answered; her eyes never leaving the screen as she tried to make sense of the last few sentences she had written. 

“No, I meant attending. Wait, Clegane is staying; are you serious?”

“He’s not that bad.”

Jon scoffed. “Of course  _ you _ think that, he’s only got an inch or two on you. To the rest of us he looms over like a giant; always scowling  _ -barking _ . You know they call him the  _ Hound _ ?”

Brienne had heard the nickname but had restrained herself for thinking on it too much for fear of ever finding herself addressing the man by such moniker. 

“Yes. And no, I didn’t ask.”

\-------

He hated being late, it was an annoying quirk he had picked up from his father; one he had tried to shake off but found he couldn’t. Out of every annoying and disturbing antic Jaime had learned from Tywin Lannister, he had eventually realized his punctuality was something actually worth having. Of course, the trait only meant people quickly grew used to his almost obsessiveness with being on time and thus he could not allow himself the ample opportunity to arrive past the hour of a meeting. 

He tried phoning Payne again, but the man was probably already deep in surgery, or soundly sleeping in one of the waiting rooms. 

Jaime had thought moving closer to Myrcella and the rest of the children would have meant he would be able to see them far more often, and thus would be spared from the midnight call crisis his family had grown used to giving him for the last couple of years. He had even gotten an apartment just a couple of minutes from where his sister lived; it had supposed to have helped him keep a better eye on them. It hadn’t.

Somehow, the call from Tommen he had received had been frantic enough to divert Jaime from his scheduled appointment with Drogon Clinic’s new director in favor of attending Cersei and the fact she had forgotten to pick up her youngest child -again. The poor boy was only nine. 

“Payne, pick up you old bastard.”

“Sir, we need an ID-”

“Yes, I know -I  _ know _ . My visitor’s badge is currently in his locker if you would- ah! Payne!”

“No, P-p-p-od; sir?”

_ Pod? _

“Ah, an intern? I’m doctor Lannister, surgeon. Doctor Payne’s chew toy, if you will.” Jaime could hear the gulp given by the frightened boy. “Is Payne there?”

“He’s in-in in-”

“Speak up, boy.”

“He’s in surgery, a ruptured spleen from Flea Bottom.”

Jaime hadn’t needed a full report, but once the young intern had lost his initial stammer he proceeded to diligently start rambling on about the patient’s current condition. It was an intern trademark, Jaime had learned in his months at KLG, to accurately describe a patient’s status every time it was brought up. 

The security guard guarding the back entrance to the hospital still looked on at him with a slight scowl on his face; arms crossed as if his posture would make him seem more daunting than his small frame allowed him to be. 

Jaime tried to charm the man, but the guard wouldn’t even blink at his antics. 

“Fantastic Pod, I promise to throw in a good word for you with the terror himself; now please get me the damn visitor’s badge from his thrice-damned locker so I can get inside this bloody hospital.”

“Oh, right! He did mention someone would try to get in.”

A frustrated sigh escaped Jaime’s lips; his right hand twitched. It wasn’t until Pod had hung up when Jaime remembered he had forgotten to ask which resident was on call tonight. 

It had almost been a week, and he had not yet had the pleasure of having seen her. She was a first year, so the chances  _ were _ slim. He knew all too well how the first week of residency usually went by; with little to no OR time, while going on completing tedious task after tedious task for the elder residents and idiotic attendings. Of course, Jaime also knew how stubborn the girl could be. 

He waited for a couple of minutes, deciding to quickly check his phone for any messages, pleased to seeing one from Tommen informing Jaime his mother had calmed down and was currently fast asleep in their living room couch. Jaime suspected Tommen had intentionally left out the fact that there was probably an empty bottle of Dornish Red resting beside her. 

Before his mind could wander even further into the disaster that was his current family life and what his sister was slowly becoming, a young man appeared in his line of vision. He was short, thin and had brown, exhausted eyes. 

“Doctor Lannister?”

Jaime grinned at the guard in triumph; still the stoic man gave him nothing. 

\-------

“I’m not s-s-s-sure you ca-c-can sir -er, doctor.”

It had been intriguing at first, but as Jaime finished changing into his scrubs -the intern, hovering over him like an unwanted shadow- the entire situation felt tedious. 

“Kid, I’m sure you’ve got a thousand and one things to do. You don’t need to babysit me, I don’t care how scared you are of  _ Payne- _ ”

“He’s my uncle, sir -er, doctor.”

“My condolences, then. Good night, doctor Payne.” He left the stammering intern behind; still in his whites, still just a kid. 

Payne was a beast, and he would probably have his head for arriving mid surgery, but Jaime was proud enough to not let it bother him -much. His hand was almost back to normal, his reinstatement petition had been luckily accepted for further review and he would be presenting his annual council exam come winter. He couldn’t miss a surgery.

“I know you will curse me for arriving at this hour and right in the middle of something, but in my defence, I did  _ try _ to reach you before shift started; your bloody phone was off-”

By the Seven. 

Her blue eyes cut him deeper than any of Payne’s words would ever have the power of doing. 

“Doctor Tarth.” He grinned, with both his hands up in the air, dripping wet from having just finished scrubbing down. 

\--------

His voice. She heard it; her ears picking it up with such ease and familiarity she had to curse them. It had been bad enough having run into him outside of The Dragon Pit. King’s Landing had an ever growing population, making it the most populated city in the country, and yet she had somehow managed to bump into him  _ -twice _ !

She saw Clegane’s eyes roll following Lannister’s announcement. She saw Payne’s lack of reaction and the nurse’s amusing  _ giggles _ . 

He entered the room without giving Brienne enough time to prepare, to correctly process what was happening. 

His teasing and formal address of her, earned him a glare. Out of all the cities, out of the hospitals, and he happened to invade the one where she had been certain the memories and haunts from Harrenhal wouldn’t reach her. She cursed her naivety. She could almost hear Renly’s voice teasing her; his words echoing inside her head. 

_ ‘You can’t run from the Lannisters, no one can.’ _

Brienne took a couple seconds to ponder on his reason for arriving at KLG during a  _ night _ shift, before diverting her attention to his arms; still dripping from having scrubbed down. It took her a second to arrive at the obvious conclusion. 

“Clegane…” Payne started, making a gruff huff -which suspiciously  _ did _ sound like a dog’s growl- come out of the second-year resident’s mouth. 

“Fucking Lannisters.” The man grumbled out as he let go of his surgical tools; the sudden release of tissue making Brienne’s own hands fumble over her Deaver retractor. 

No one commented on Clegane's slip; the exchange a scene most of the room was apparently used to -including Lannister; who with a wry turn of his lips finished dressing. 

“Out of all the hospitals in King’s Landing,” he began. 

Brienne fummed. “You already knew. I  _ told _ you last week. You find it amusing, then? To follow me?”

Jaime could have laughed, could have used the opportunity to ridicule her.  _ ‘The whole world doesn’t revolve around you, Tarth.’  _ He didn't. “Follow you? You flatter yourself, Tarth. What have we got, Payne? The boy, Pod; he stammered bits and pieces, but I do admit that after his third attempt at a full sentence I did kind of doze off.”

_ Arrogant ass.  _

“Male, mid thirties, no ID, no known family or known records; three bullets to the abdomen, two through and throughs, no major arteries were hit; a ruptured spleen and a grazed stomach.” Brienne moved her hands around as she spoke, the Deaver retractor she was holding now allowing Payne the greater access to the cavity. 

She could feel his green eyes on her as she worked, but not even when she hadn't wanted to strangle him, Brienne had ever granted him the pleasure of distracting her during a procedure, and she was  _ not _ going to start now. 

He didn’t directly assess her during the remainder of the surgery; his hands moving in tandem with Payne’s in fluid motions Brienne had to control herself to not over analyze, or to spend too much time observing. 

Last she had seen him at Harrenhal he had looked more a corpse than a god. His eyes had looked haunted, his smile bitter, his hand- his hand had been bound by an external fixator he had dreaded to even glance at. She had succumbed to her girlish wants and fantasies, and had dared to ask him to not give up on his hand, on his craft. Brienne hadn’t been able to endure the thought of the surgical community losing someone with such talents. More than anything, she had been able to perceive how  _ not trying _ to get back inside an operating room would eventually finish destroying him. 

Brienne felt an odd sense of pride invade her as she noticed his steady -if slower- movements. He was cautious as he cut and dissected. There was a hesitance to his movements that there hadn’t been there before; but it if there was anything to be said about it was the fact that it made his work even more pristine than ever. 

Her irritation towards him and his current approach towards her was still there. One emotion did not nullify the other. 

As time went by, Brienne felt herself ease into the procedure. They successfully removed the spleen and sutured the abrasions made to the stomach; her hands still adept at moving around Jaime’s as if no time had passed since they had last operated together at Harrenhal. She could tell he noticed too, for she could feel her face flush every time his eyes landed on her with a crinkle lining them which told Brienne of the grin hiding behind his surgical mask. 

“Tarth; finish up for me, will you? Payne, I trust you to actually  _ let _ her finish.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide. Ilyn Payne was not a vocal man, but his disdain towards first-years was well known. The only reason Brienne had even found herself assisting that night, being the fact they had been short a resident and Clegane insisted he would have preferred to cut off his own balls than to stare at Jon for more than a full minute. 

Payne huffed, but didn’t voice out any formal complaints. 

“I assure you, she’s far smarter than she looks.”

_ Conceited ass _ . 

\----------

“What are you doing here? Why are you  _ here _ ?”

“I knew you wouldn’t be satisfied with just closing up the surgery; you’re far too inquisitive for your own good.”

She looked as if she were about to punch him, a feat he was now privileged to know could be true. She was definitely strong enough to inflict serious damage on him. 

“Lannister…”

“ _ Doctor _ Lannister; I still outrank you.”

“You were dismissed from the NIH-”

“Been following my career, have you now?” He challenged. 

_ Yes _ . “Why are you here, Jaime?”

Jaime took a step forward, wanting to capture her full attention as he spoke his next words. Wanting her to understand that he hadn’t been able to get her voice out of his head for  _ months. _

“Becasue a stubborn, mulish, stupid cow with the bluest eyes in the entire fucking Seven Kingdoms wouldn’t leave me alone to wallow in peace.”

Brienne felt her breath hitch, her heart race, her cheeks flush, her body squirm and her chest contract with both surprise and a strange sense of desire which she was quick to dismiss. 

“You told me to not quit. So I didn’t.” He meticulously watched her as he spoke, his tone low and sincere. As much fun as it had always been to rile the young woman up, Jaime could not deny that it had been  _ her _ voice and  _ her _ stubborn insistence which had brought him out from the hole he had found himself drowning in during those first few days. “Payne called me about four months ago, right after my last PT. He offered to train me up again, so long as I didn’t mind a few punches. I’ve been sneaking in ever since.”

Brienne had stopped breathing. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? Back at The Dragon Pit?” She clutched her white coat in her arms as he took another step towards her, the sincerity in his eyes and voice making Brienne dizzy. The fact she had not slept more than a handful of hours during the entire week was not making it easier to module her body’s insane reactions to suddenly having him so close. 

“Because,  _ resident _ ,” he enjoyed how she flinched at the use of the word, “what would have been the fun in doing that?”

_ Arrogant  _ ass.

\----

“How much blood has she lost?” Brienne spat, with sweat running down her forehead; hands trembling as she helped transfer the bleeding girl from the ambulance’s gurney on to one of their own. 

“We don’t know, doctor; we had-”

“What do you fucking mean you don’t  _ know _ ?” Jaime’s temper had started to flare. 

“Doctor Lannister, we-”

“Brienne!”

“On it!” Brienne answered. “Her vitals have been continuously dropping. We need to get her inside an OR, right now! Greyjoy!”

“Her hemoglobin levels are at 4.3, hematocrit at 12.5-”

“How much solution has she received?” Brienne interrupted. 

“We don’t-”

“We get it, you don’t know fucking shit! Brienne, her BP is dropping and going to disappear -real soon.”

“I  _ know _ !” She growled back at Jaime. “Greyjoy, get me a peripheral line; make it a #14 catheter,” Brienne turned towards the anesthesiology resident, “doctor Sand?”

“I’ll need at least three blood units to begin proper resuscitation with.”

“Greyjoy!” Jaime barked, his own sweat rolling down his neck as he tried to asses the pale girl’s situation. 

“When did she start bleeding?” Brienne, with far more composture than she thought herself capable of still possessing, asked. 

“We picked her up about an hour ago. We started a line, but only managed to get one Ringer’s solution in her. She was already stuporous when we picked her up.”

The paramedic, a young girl with purple eyes reminiscent of the Targaryens of old answered; she was young, and her voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes never leaving the still bleeding young girl. 

“From where?” Oberyn Martell, the on call gynecologist and the calmest of the present medical professionals, inquired, his eyes dark and knowing. 

“Rosby, near Stokeworth Manor.”

_ Fucking noble families. _

It was a common thought through the medical professional’s minds. Stokeworth Manor was the current residing home of the Westeros Royal Family -what was left of it. 

Brienne rolled the girl on to the gurney; the steady and faint beeping of the portable monitor the only reassurance of the girl’s life. She could hear Jaime spitting out commands to the meek looking gynecology intern, Greyjoy; while Martell informed the nurses on what they would need for the procedure. 

The girl had lost a lot of blood. An ectopic pregnancy which had ended in rupture; quickly draining the girl of her life. They had no idea how long the bleeding had been going on for, or how much IV fluid had been administered, or the medications or emergency procedures she had been treated with before arriving at KLG’s ER. 

The girl was dying, agonizing as they rolled her on to the surgical bed. 

“Doctor Lannister-” Brienne breathed out. 

“Help me get her on the table.”

“Jaime,” she tried again. They were losing her. They shouldn’t have even  _ been _ there, but both had been chatting with the chief of the ER regarding a stabbed patient they had just finished stabilizing when the girl had been rolled in. 

“Sand, get her under. Lannister, scrub in.” Martell commanded as he entered the room, hands at the ready; already scrubbed and getting dressed faster than Brienne had ever witnessed someone do. “Your resident too.”

Brienne and Jaime did not wait around. 

\------

“Has she stopped bleeding?”

“No! Seven fucking hells! Lannister!”

“I got this. Brienne-”

“Moving.” She flipped her body over, her back brushing up against Jaime’s as they changed positions around the operating table. 

“I need more blood! Greyjoy!” 

The intern flinched, red eyed and jittery, he took out his phone. 

“She’s not responding. Oberyn!” Sand called out from behind them all. 

“Seven hells,” Martell cursed; his eyes wild and desperate, his jaw clenched, his hands moving and working with a swiftness Jaime envied and Brienne would have admired if not for the steadily decrease of their patient’s vitals. They were  _ losing _ her. 

“Greyjoy!” Sand shouted, her brown eyes widening in exasperation as she lost their patient’s blood pressure, her pulse dropping to below forty beats per minute and steadily decreasing. 

“The blood bank is trying to get some.”

Brienne bit the inside of her cheek, willing the pain from it to overcome the anger she felt rising within her. She couldn’t lose focus, not when the girl still held signs of life. 

“Seven hells!”

\------

That was the thing about King’s Landing, one which Brienne had been quick to learn when she had arrived to work at its General hospital. The city might not have been the largest of the entire country, but it did hold some of the most varied and wildest population in all of Westeros. It was the capital, and it was always in constant movement. 

KL’s General hospital was large, some even called it grand; but it was still the  _ only _ NIH building in the city. They were overpopulated and understocked. 

The ER didn’t hold enough beds, the ORs were in continuous operation and had to maintain a steady flow of patients in order to keep the surgical floor from overwhelming the institute. 

King’s Landing General was harsh and rough, and it pushed its medical doctors to their limits as much as it was humanly possible. Some broke under the stress, some broke under the impotence, while others found their life’s calling between the rush and perpetual state of panic of the city. 

Brienne had held her head up high, had left her prejudices aside and had embraced KLG as best as she knew how. She worked, she ached, she rarely slept; she sometimes even forgot to eat a full meal. 

King’s Landing was brutal. Brienne had fallen in love with it. 

Three months had already gone by; three months and a thousand lessons learned in such a short span of time. Brienne’s brain constantly found itself in a state of buzz. 

Three months, and Brienne had not shed a single tear for any of her patients. Not a single one. Until that night. 

It had been a dance, perfectly synchronized and delivered; a glorious occasion to witness. Her hands had never felt more alive; her heart had raced, her breathing had depeneed, her pupils had dilated. It had been a rush like Brienne had never known, and yet- doctor Ellaria Sand had pronounced the girl dead at 02:07. 

Oberyn had thrown his driver across the room, cursing in at least three different languages. Sand had sat back on her stool; her face pale and her hands still trembling from the adrenaline coursing through everyone’s bodies. 

Jaime and Brienne had looked at one another, green meeting blue amidst the chaos. Their gazes held exhaustion and an affinity they had been avoiding to acknowledge for the last three months. They had collapsed on the floor, with their backs against each other; each using the other for support. 

Brienne weeped. Three months worth of tears streamed down her face as she tried to change out of her bloodied scrubs into a fresh pair she always kept inside her locker. 

“It’s funny,” his voice stunned her to silence, “we meeting like this-  _ again _ . Tragedies inside locker rooms. You know, the last time I ever saw a tear coming out of one of your ridiculously pretty eyes was inside a room like this. Except my hand felt as if it had been set on fire and my head throbbed with a pain I had never known the likes of before.”

Brienne turned her face towards where she could hear his voice, lost in the shadows of the nearby corridor. She stepped inside the odd, small passageway; her arms coming to cross around her body in an attempt to shield herself from his eyes. 

“She was seven and ten. Daughter of Roseanne Flemming, cousin to the prince. Poor girl hadn’t wanted anyone to know.”

Brienne took his appearance in; hair mussed from being inside a surgical cap for long hours, his green eyes dulled with exhaustion and red rimmed from his own tears, shoulders slumped in defeat, jaw set with a bitterness Brienne couldn’t completely grasp the meaning of. 

“She must have been bleeding for some time before calling for help.”

“That’s what Martell keeps on insisting. That we couldn’t have done more than we did.”

It was true, they couldn’t have. They followed procedure as best as the night and circumstances had allowed. In an ideal world, no resources would ever be lacking. But the world was not ideal; least of all in a city like King’s Landing. 

“He’s right.” She got out. 

“You haven’t lost a scrap of innocence, have you? Still idealistically wandering through the halls of the hospital; thinking that if only you get there on time, if only you follow every order given -every fucking protocol- you will somehow change the world.” His laugh was bitter, acid, meant to hurt.

Brienne tentatively sat down next to him, her still tear-rimmed eyes never leaving his frame. 

She had felt herself break after having stepped out of the operating room; blood on her scrubs, on her face. Three months of bad living habits made your mind eventually crash and Brienne's had finally succumbed to the exhaustion. It had been a moment, a moment where she had allowed herself to grieve the life of an innocent they had no control over; a life they should have been able to save but couldn't. The sadness had then transformed to frustration, and finally resignation. There were some battles she would not be able to win, no matter how much it pained her. 

Brienne got reminded of the last time she had seen Jaime inside a locker room, the last time she had scouted the man’s eyes and found a deep sense of loss in them. He had been inside a white room filled with monitors and hooked up to several IV lines. 

“Life’s not a song. This job is not a song. It’s hard work. You need preparation and training and schooling and you  _ try _ , you try your best and  _ still _ it’s not enough. And you get beaten to the dirt by every single prick who has already gone through the same shit you’re going through, just because they  _ can _ ; because they rejoice in making you feel as useless as a bloody fool of old. 

But still you finish, you finish and you’re better than every other single cunt out there who has questioned you, has judged you and spit on your character behind your back. You don’t need to do much, becasue your hands are glorious, they heal whatever fucking wounds are left by the idiots who thought Aerys Targaryen a god.”

Brienne’s eyes went wide as he dropped the fabled name of the owner of the Valyrian Clinic. Out of all the stories Jaime had ever shared with her during their short time together, he had never given her the smallest inkling as to wanting to dive into Targaryen territory. The name had never been mentioned by either of them. 

He felt exhausted, exhausted and  _ bitter _ . His first night covering for Payne; his first night alone as an attending surgeon and he had  _ lost _ someone. A young girl, not even twenty in age. 

His tears had surprised him, but he hadn’t shriveled away from them. Instead, he had welcomed the salted taste of them on his mouth as he had changed from his bloodied scrubs; as he had scrubbed his beard, mussed up his hair, and tried to get the stench of death  _ off _ of him. 

It was always hard to lose a patient, especially one so young; especially one he knew shouldn’t have died. The impotence he felt was enough to drive Jaime mad with anger; the fact he had not slept for almost thirty hours did not help ease the whirlwind of emotions inside his brain. 

He couldn’t find the will to stop talking; his brain had been ripped open. The story flowed from his lips without restraint, without consideration. “I had been starting my second year at the Citadel and had the world at my feet. Older residents feared my name, the younger ones respected me, my attendings had already fallen in love with my hands. I was the best one of the sorry lot. Of course, it helped most of them had gotten into the program because of favors having been owed to their families. 

Aerys Targayen had been an  _ -associate _ of my father’s; and he had been starting to hire fourth-year residents out of the Citadel to work for him at Valyrian. That year he hired two-fourth years and me; a second-year with far too much energy and little chance of practice to spend it all on.”

Brienne remained unmoved, her eyes firmly fixed upon him; almost dreading to blink for fear of making him remember who it was he was talking to. 

“What have you heard of Aerys? Of Valyrian? I remember your eyes on that first day; judgemental eyes, same as everyone. You must have been around ten or eleven, finishing up primary schooling in the Stormlands.” He chuckled again, this time daring to lock his green almost defiant eyes on hers, as if waiting for an answer. 

“Eleven,” she managed to whisper. 

“Fuck me,” he sighed; his eyes returning to stare at a fixed point across the hall. “You were a child; a child dreaming of songs and warriors, while I was a second-year resident, daily lying through his teeth in order to get Aerys from his home to the clinic without people finding out the man was either drunk or high.”

Brienne withheld a gasp, firmly committed to letting him finish his tale before offering any kind of reaction. 

“For a year I stood by and watched how he hit and threatened his employees; how he slurred his words; how he made mistake after mistake, shielding his precious practice under the NIH and the fact he never once took full responsibility for any of his procedures. For a year I stood and mostly watched, because blinded fool that I had been, I had not realized the only reason I had been hired had been to spite my father; to keep the great Tywin Lannister of Lannister Corp. under a tight leash. If my father deviated from whatever contract he had drawn up with the mad king himself, Areys would make sure the next malpractice sentence held my name and my family’s on it.” He gave a sudden pause, as if he were contemplating whether he should continue on. He had to, he couldn’t fucking stop. Not until he let it all out. 

“One day, a fifteen year old boy died from induction complications. He had not been properly prepped and everyone had known it. The anesthesiologist had not wanted to put him under, and had threatened to expose the cunt for the fraud he was; but Aerys was the king and the king got whatever he wanted. He hit and threatened the man right in front of me; I could smell the alcohol on him still, a dry and hard smell -wildfire whiskey. The boy died. I reported Aerys to the board the next day. I had the evidence I needed, there was only one bar which sold the banned liquor. 

The clinic fell under after his arrest. The money from it got redirected to paying the debts he owed. Hundreds of people had invested good money in Valyrian-”

“My father,” she unknowingly sighed. 

His eyes locked with hers once more. “Your father, and a hundred more who somehow had now found themselves newly indebted to Tywin Lannister.”

_ We almost lost the house.  _

“I had no idea he would buy the clinic out. I had just wanted to get out, get  _ him _ out. Surgery is an art form, not many have the gift of it; but those who have it should practice it with responsibility and pride. My father and his lawyers covered the story as best as they could; still, rumors were not extent from flying afterwards:  _ Kinglsayer, Honorless man, Leech _ .

You build up a reputation: you work hard and you get there on time; you follow orders and protocols; you smile at the patients, and all for what? For a single act to brand you like cattle against the world.”

“You’re not branded.” She found her voice, soft and honest; surprising even herself by the tenderness which she emitted. 

“You’re too naive, resident.”

“My name’s Brienne; a girl from the Stormlands who grew up studying  _ your _ techniques and dreamt of ever being as good as you inside an OR. You weren’t branded; your work is legendary.  _ This _ won't brand you either.”

“You sound annoyingly certain for a young woman who still blushes every time someone gives her a compliment.”

“Jest all you want, Lannister; the truth is still your greatest weapon. Your work was not branded then, it won’t be now. Especially if you don’t give them cause to doubt it.”

Both felt broken, both felt raw and exposed in different ways. 

The weight of his confession would probably dawn upon him come morning, but for tonight, he let himself share his burdens with the only person he knew would not refuse his plea for comfort. Her eyes were still red from her own tears, her hands still shook, and her nails were still stained with dried up blood. 

“Go to sleep, Brienne. If anything else arrives tonight, I’m forcing Jon to scrub in. You deserve the rest; more than anyone.”

She let go of her body’s tension as he breathed out his instruction, allowing her body to fall against his own; arms unceremoniously relaxing to her sides, exhaustion making her forget the state of her undress. 

Jaime’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt her body unwind next to his own; a sly smirk sneaking on to his face as he took notice of her current wardrobe; bright red sports bra and black boyshorts. 

“I love the colors, by the way.” 

She hit him, but nevertheless appreciated his attempt to lighten the somber mood.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although it may not look like it, this is a love letter to my second hospital and the one where I am hoping I will get accepted into for my residency program.


	7. make confessions and we're begging for forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We keep moving forward in their relationship. Brienne learns a secret. Jaime learns a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thankful for all your comments and nudges. 
> 
> Here's the next chapter. Another long one. They're all long now. 
> 
> Title from song False God by Taylor Swift. 
> 
> All mistakes are always mine.

“I can’t abide stupidity.”

Brienne eyed her roommate with a questioning glance. Renly was not one prone to wander around the hospital without an agenda. He was an internal medicine resident, gladly confined to the hospital's third floor. He would only ever patrol the rest of the corridors if he was looking for Loras, or in order to try and weasel out a favor from someone. 

“We have that in common. Weren’t you on shift last night?”

Renly groaned, almost dramatically so; Brienne had to bite her lip in order to keep herself from blatantly laughing in his face. 

“Yes. Would coffee be enough to bribe you away from here?”

He looked tired, genuinely so. Renly had always been a cheerful presence in Brienne’s life; his exuberant personality a nice contrast to her own more reserved persona. It tickled her to see her friend's eyes, usually so full of life, shadowed by an exhaustion so alike her own. 

“It normally would, but I’m on shift tonight and Clegane is still out with Greyscale. I can’t risk Aemon getting touchy; he’s already benched Jon. Unjustly so -if I may add.”

“Yeah, Aemon is a right prick; but Lannister is on call tonight, isn’t he? Payne is still paying him to cover his nights.”

Brienne gulped and tried to evade her friend’s eyes. Jaime had already risen to defend her against the brute third-year once; sparking all sorts of interesting rumors to float around for a while. She wasn’t looking to rekindle them. 

In contrast to her time and working relationship with the surgeon during Harrenhal; at KLG Jaime Lannister was not a hired attending. The fact the once famed surgeon was working nights meant his deeds and misfortunes didn’t steal the spotlight as they once would have. So the relationship Brienne and Jaime had managed to build up again had remained a soft buzz; a piece of gossip that would only reach the morning floors if there wasn't anything else warranting discussion. 

“He is, but it’s Aemon the one who enjoys torturing me; not Lannister.”

“One of these days you’re going to have to tell me what made you change your opinion on him. You couldn’t even stand to hear the sound of his name back when you started, and now you don't seem to ever shut up about him.”

Brienne snorted as she printed out her final report on Gail Rivers and his pan-coloproctectomy. 

“Weren’t you going to go and get me a cup of coffee, Baratheon?”

Renly snorted back. "No.  _ You _ were going to go and get me one, Tarth. I am the one who hasn’t slept for more than twenty-four hours, remember?”

“I’ll buy you a cup if you go back to the third floor and stop avoiding Loras. The poor man has been sending me texts all morning and I have no clue on what to respond.”

Annoyed at having been caught, Renly huffed, but did not lose the tired smile adoring his handsome face. 

\-------

“You all need to stop this idiotic war! I need you  _ both _ in on this and if Jon here feels like scurbbing in instead of Pod, I would more than fucking appreciate it!” Jaime barked at his residents, not one of them looking directly at him. 

“And Brienne,” he added, not caring for the flinch the young woman gave as she felt forced to lock eyes with him, “don’t ever try to undervalue your work again.”

Brinne went red in both anger and embarrassment. 

“I guess I’m out, then?” Pod’s voice rang in the almost dead silent hallway where Jaime had stopped the four doctors on their way to the locker rooms, all arguing over each other as to whom would be scrubbing in. 

“If anything happens while we’re in there don’t fucking hesitate to call for help.” Aemon spat.

“He won’t.”

“Seven hells, stop mothering him!”

Brinne’s eyes narrowed in anger, but she refrained from retaliating with a defense. They had already been fighting for the better part of the evening, and she couldn’t allow their petty differences to get in the way of their work. 

“If you all don’t hurry up I won't bloody hesitate to report  _ all _ of you!”

Jaime’s voice rang through the corridor, making the three surgical residents resume their walk towards the locker rooms while the intern got left behind.

“What Lannister sees in you, I’ll never understand.”

Brinne didn’t answer, simply shared an apologetic look with Jon who had remained quiet and observing, as he often did, throughout the entire exchange. 

\--------

Jaime had managed to calm down from his sudden annoyance once Brienne had entered the operating room. His green eyes casually landing on her frame with a calm glint; a subtle nod of his head indicating to her he was well aware of what he had done and how he had behaved. 

Brienne still didn’t understand why he insisted on explaining himself everytime he commanded or reprimanded her. He wasn’t an NIH attending surgeon, true; but Brienne had not lied when she had told him about having studied his techniques when she had been young; back when she had still been helping out Goodwin in the Stormlands. He was her teacher; a firm and demanding attitude was expected from him when inside hospitals walls. 

And yet, the few times she had managed to encounter him at The Dragon Pit after the night they had lost the Rosby girl, he had seemed to take no qualms in pushing and jerking her around the mat, without ever showing an ounce of regret. 

He was baffling, and probably the best ally Brienne had formed within the walls of KLG during the six months she had been there. 

She was still a first-year, which meant she still didn’t get enough time inside an OR during her regular hours. Sometimes she wouldn’t even be allowed to step inside the locker rooms during night shifts. Jaime was the only surgeon who never allowed Brienne to miss a surgery during one of his shifts. 

Aemon had noticed. Aemon had grown furious when on one night, Jaime had chosen both Brienne and Clegane to assist him on a complicated gunshot wound, instead of him. 

His purple eyes never left Brienne as they worked, reminiscent of her first few surgeries under Jaime’s watchful eye. Except she had never felt insulted by Jaime’s cutting gaze. Jaime had stared and judged, but he had always offered some sort of lesson in his observations. Aemon only erroneously insulted. 

“You’re doing fine, finish up.” Jaime gritted out through clenched teeth. “Aemon, shut it; or I will find myself tempted to ask Pod in.”

The third-year huffed, his silence only lasting for a full minute before resuming his erroneous criticizing of Brienne’s work as she finished a dissection. 

“Brienne,” Jaime called; his voice carrying a neutral tone which Brienne had to lift her gaze in order to comprehend the meaning of. It should have been an unnerving thought, the fact Brienne had grown used to reading the man’s needs by the tone of voice he used when calling towards her during a procedure. It wasn't. 

_ Oh _ . 

She moved over Jon; her quick maneuver startling the other first-year. It wasn't until she returned her hands towards the operating table when she realized she had moved without wording her intentions. 

They continued working; her new position allowing Jaime the opportunity to rely on her more than he had done before. 

Words flew across the table; from Jaime to Aemon, from Aemon to no one in particular and occasionally towards Brienne; from Jaime to Jon and from Jon to Brienne. Not once did Jaime and Brienne cross more than their given names towards each other, and yet they moved with an envious symmetry and connection Jon could not help but stare in bewilderment at and Aemon fume at. 

\------

“Aemon, you’re out! Get the fuck out of my OR.”

Aemon ceremoniously threw his driver over the table; Brienne making a quick catch for it, her blue eyes wide in shock. 

Jaime was fuming, his ears red from anger directed at the pompous third-year.

“Clegane isn't supposed to-”

“I don’t fucking  _ need _ Clegane! Leave!”

The room became as close to silent as it could get after Aemon crossed over the sliding doors; the only sounds coming from the steady beat of the patient’s vitals. 

Jaime had had it with the man. An arrogant, conceited, contemptuous ass of a man. His purple eyes made Jaime’s skim prune and his head throb. What was worse, the young resident reminded Jaime far too much of his own self; back when he had been arrogantly naive enough to believe the world would always bow down to him and his work. 

Brienne continued their work in silence, with her eyes firmly set on the task at hand. Her movements swift and precise, as if Jaime had not just lost his temper in a way he hadn’t ever since the Rosby girl case. 

“You’re eerily quiet.”

Brienne did turn her eyes to him for a second before returning them to where she was ligating a vessel. 

“I think you’ve got me confused with yourself  _ -again _ .”

“He was out of line. Has been, always. I understand you don’t like snapping back at people, but even I can only take so much of someone running you through the dirt before I snap.”

“This from the man who spent an entire splenectomy trying to get me to ‘break’ by insulting my face, my height and my entire physical appearance?”

She was snapping at  _ him _ ? Aemon would drag her through the dirt over and over again, trying to ridicule her by thrusting her under uncomfortable spotlights; and yet she had never even once batted her eyelids at the third-year. 

“I’ve never insulted your work.”

“Just my person, then.”

It was delicious, the way she held nothing back from him now; the way her eyes and mouth both spoke to him. It was even more amazing that ever since she had started answering to his teases and insults, he had also begun reading her silent expressions better. 

“Yes.” He threw back; with his hand put out in front of him, waiting for her to understand his plea.

Brienne handed him the wanted driver while asking for another Kelly clamp. 

\--------

Brienne stared at the screen, eyes blinking back tears that if anyone asked, she would attribute to the fact she had changed shifts earlier during the week and thus had not gotten more than ten hours of sleep in  _ three _ days. 

Her much needed vacation days had been spent mostly sleeping inside Renly’s apartment while the world outside had continued moving on. Her only contact during that fortnight of blissful peace had been with her roommate, his boyfriend, and Jaime. 

She had received a text from Jaime on a night she should have been on shift. He had raged and blamed  _ her _ for having gotten stuck with Jon and Aemon for the night. She had laughed and had let him know of her amusement. He had started texting her regularly after that. Suddenly, work related conversations had turned into the exchange of silly words and casual stories. 

She should have gone home, she had known that. Jaime had even questioned her on her reluctance to go visit home for a day or two. Brienne hadn’t thought the trip worthwhile. She missed her home dearly, and had been afraid a quick visit to her old sanctuary would have been enough to make her question things she had longed affirmed the answers to.

She re-read her father’s email with lingering regret; a plea for her to visit him during the upcoming Long Night Holiday. He wrote with guarded longing, with protected sadness, and with a dash of hope which had proficiently broken Brienne. 

She should have gone to Tarth during her break. 

“You need to tell me how Jon managed to get himself promoted to first-year resident commander, because that man is even more somber than you are -and  _ that _ is saying something.” Jaime appeared beside her without much ceremony or care. “Something wrong, resident?” He questioned as he sat down. 

“I miss home.” She muffled her answer. “It happens -sometimes.” She avoided looking over at him, already knowing her skin had begun to flush in response to his unusual closeness.

“Wish I could say I relate, but I haven’t been back to Casterly since I practically ran away from the Westerlands at eighteen.” 

Brienne couldn’t help the roll of her eyes, silently thanking him for providing her brain with the distraction it needed in order to find the will to close her email account. She did so while checking the time stamp on the computer, noting it was well past two in the morning, and Clegane should have already arrived to relay her. 

“Have you slept at all, Brienne? Your face looks even more stuffy than usual. And that’s saying something.”

Her glare felt like water on a dry day. Brienne appeared tough and even gruff, but it was mostly due to her amazing height and build. Her expressive eyes never failed to give her age away; young, bright, quick and still harboring an innocence Jaime could not phantom how she had preserved. 

“Clegane is set to relay me. I’ll get my hours, don’t fuss.”

“I meant during the week.”

She bit her lip. Jaime grinned, she could never pull a decent poker face; her expressions always betrayed her thoughts and emotions. It had become so apparent to Jaime, he could not understand when Payne would grumble on about having a hard time communicating with the first-year. 

“Sleep. That’ll take your mind off Tarth.”

“Or make me dream of home even more.”

Jaime’s mouth ran away with him before he could truly filter his next statement. “You rarely talk about your home. You blab about Renly and your stupid crush on him well enough.”

His comment earned him a well-deserved punch. 

“There hasn’t been a need to, or opportunity I guess.” Nevertheless she blessed him with an answer. “It’s not like you’ve talked about Casterly, what with you juggling your sister and her three kids as if they were your own. I’ve always wondered; does she even know you work here? She seems to think all your time is meant for her and her alone. She does realize you work.”

Her mouth ran away, her brain having lost its natural filter. If there hadn't been a clear sign of her exhaustion before, the fact she was blatantly calling him out on his own family’s current disastrous circumstances was enough for Jaime to realize the girl was spent. 

“Cersei seems to think the entire world is at her disposal and  _ only _ hers. Now I know you haven’t been sleeping, you never bring my oddball of a schedule into a conversation; without blushing I may add. Come on.” He stood, extending his arms out for her.

She stared at his arms and then at his green eyes; questions written in her own orbs. 

“You really think me that horrible? I’m trying to be chivalrous.”

She snorted, but still accepted his offer and used his extended limbs for leverage as she stood. Jaime tried hard to ignore the slight twitch his right wrist gave at the amount of pressure she used. She was heavy and apparently did trust him enough to deposit most of her weight on him as she stood. 

“Gods, you’re heavy.”

“I’m going to punch you again.”

He humored her with a quick laugh as she steadied herself on exhausted legs. She would never admit to him the true extent of her fatigue; she was far too stubborn to admit any sort of physical weariness. She didn’t fool him -couldn’t now. 

His green eyes turned from playful to soft in a quick second. “I’ll send Clegane over. Sleep, resident.”

He left her almost as quickly as he had appeared next to her. Brienne grabbed unto the nearest chair to steady her legs. She wanted to fully blame her uneasiness on her lack of sleep and her melancholic stance, but his gentle green eyes and low voice kept directing her thoughts towards another reason. 

A soft little ding made her mind refocus and return to the present. Brienne turned to see Jaime’s phone laying next to her computer keyboard. Another ding sounded off, followed by two more. Someone was desperate, and Brienne curious. 

She grabbed the contraption, her blue eyes narrowing as she took in his background picture of one of the Long Night’s famed swords; followed by the string of notifications coming in from his sister. At least five messages in which she mostly rambeled on about Jaime’s fear of commitment, his idiotic tendencies and unkept promises. The string of messages ended with a simple threat, one which made Brienne fumble with and eventually drop the phone. 

_ ‘I don’t care if you’re her father, she’s  _ my _ daughter and I will not let you take her away from me.’ _

A thousand thoughts and questions invaded Brienne’s mind as she picked the phone from where it had fallen. He had never once given her a reason to even one of his sister’s children to having been  _ his _ . Had it been done as a favor? Was it the reason he had moved back to KL after having once sworn to never return? Did Cersei held this deed over him? Constantly reminded him of the favor she was doing by raising his daughter? Or…

Brienne shook her head, her face going pale as reason came back to her. Was she truly as stupidly naive as Jaime loved reminding her of being? Renly’s voice came to her, as loud and clear as if he had been inside the room:  _ ‘only Joffrey had been Robert's, the other two little golden cubs had been fathered by two different, unknown men.’ _

Myrcella wasn’t just Jaime’s daughter; she was Cersei’s as well. A child born of incest. Of an incestous relationship. Of a relationship between Jaime  _ -her _ Jaime- and Cersei Lannister. 

Brienne dry heaved into the nearest wastebasket as she tried to process and catalogue the information she had just stumbled on. 

When Jaime returned to the station, Brienne had already gone; his cell phone placed on top of her finished reports. 

\----------

He didn’t understand. As much as he tried to pinpoint the exact moment she had stopped meeting his gaze, he couldn’t. They rarely locked eyes inside an OR, usually communicating with hand gestures or different tones of voices. So it took him three shifts to finally understand she was avidly avoiding him. 

He had managed to corner her once, right outside the locker rooms. He had wasted no time and had flat out accused her of evading him. She had had the courtesy of looking embarrassed; with her cheeks turning a nice shade of pink, and her eyes clouding over with something Jaime could not decipher; before having been rescued by one of the new surgical interns. 

They hadn’t talked in two weeks, and the fact of it was driving Jaime up the wall. In between Cersei continuously threatening to move back to the Westerlands with the children, and Tyrion constantly up his ass telling him to ‘just sue for custody of the girl already’, he felt he craved the tranquility which operating alongside Brienne gave him. She knew him and he knew her, the ease with which they worked was the envy of every surgeon who managed to witness their partnership. 

He also missed the simple pleasure of getting to tease her with the promise of an actual response at the end. 

He hit the swinging bag with an extra force as he thought more on the silent treatment he had been receiving from his favorite resident. 

Sweat formed around his brow, slowly making its way down his face, dripping unto his short-trimmed beard, never making it off his body until the soft threads turned brittle with moisture. He hit the bag over and over again; imagining something in his life he wished he could just hit and defeat -move on from- each time his fists connected with the hard plastic.

One hit: it was Cersei’s soft face against a roaring fire as she cradled his face in her hands, kissing him into blind submission. 

Two hits: it transformed into his father ignoring his pleas after closing and buying out Valyrian. 

Three hits: it was Stark’s face as she accused him of taking advantage of Brienne on that fateful day before his second hand surgery. How he had wanted to hit the smug smile off her face. 

Four hits: he saw Aemon, smug and tall; purple eyes filled with an arrogance so reminiscent of his own. Jaime almost lost his footing as he quickened his punches. 

“You’ll tear it down.”

Her voice was sweet music to his ears; so much had he missed the sound of it, Jaime didn’t seem to care her sentence had been uttered without any hint of emotion. 

“That’s the plan,” he supplied. He hit the bag again, this time picturing her face. As the vision inside his mind became clearer and her blue eyes came into view, Jaime found himself losing his balance and being beaten by the revolving force of the bag as it came back towards him. 

_ Idiot _ . 

Brinne moved to grab the punching bag. Her right arm stretching over his shrunken form; her blue eyes firmly fixed over him, analyzing his every move and every twitch. Jaime had no clue as to what she was looking for. 

“Thank you.”

“Thinking of someone in particular?” Her voice came up after a couple of more measured punches from him, startling him enough to miss one, but not enough to endanger himself of getting hit again. 

“As a matter a fact, yes. I gotta say though, my imagination can’t do your blue eyes justice.”

She reddened. 

“Me?" She growled. "You’re picturing  _ me _ ?” There was incredulity in her question, but Jaime could also make out a bit of sadness laced within her words. 

“Among others,” he gritted out; throwing another punch. 

Brienne fummed. What had  _ she _ done to  _ him _ to merit such fictional treatment? Sure, she had stopped answering most of his friendlier texts and had reverted to only addressing him whenever she had a medical conundrum. He was her  _ attending  _ surgeon, NIH or not. She had somehow fooled herself into believing him a friend. 

_ One of your closest _ , her mind whispered. He wasn’t, he  _ couldn’t _ be. 

“Too scared of sparring against me, you take on a swinging bag?” 

Her attempt at a snarl sent a shiver down Jaime’s spine. Gods, she was not even twenty-five. 

He stopped the bag mid swing to turn and look at her. 

She was sitting down on the same bench he had found her on -almost seven months ago. She looked almost the same as she had done that day; tall, proud, sure of her body in a way she had never been at Harrenhal, and ridiculously young. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles under them, her body muscle had slightly diminished, and her hair had grown to reach just above her shoulders. She still looked magnificent. 

“I don’t box.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ve never boxed.” She was eager to get him on the mat, eager for a good spar. 

Watching his eyes contemplate her choice of words, watching him grab a towel from a nearby bin to swipe the sweat off his forehead; Brienne itched to get a few kicks and punches on him. 

No one should have been allowed to look as handsome as he did after a full ten minute workout consisting of aimlessly punching a boxing bag. 

As she followed his body across the boxing ring toward the sparring mats, Brienne found herself wishing for her blade. A cut or two across his face would be beneficial to the rational part of the female race. 

Their sparring matches, as they had been quick to learn, were always surprisingly even. Her build made her strong and agile; his made him quick and sharp. This one was no different.

Both puffed out deep breaths, grunted in frustration, and hissed in pain. Both fought at full force, more of a true fight than a friendly spar. He managed to land a kick beneath her left breast which had her throwing out a rash punch towards his face in defence; hitting him right on his left cheekbone. 

_ What have _ I _ done? _

_ You’re not telling the whole truth, resident.  _

“Yield, I fucking yield.” Jaime breathed out; his face red, his breathing shallow, his cock starting to stir under the pressure of her entire weight  _ on _ him. Did she want to  _ kill _ him? 

Brienne took in a couple of breaths after he spoke, trying to calm her erratically beating heart down. She had won. 

She had somehow managed to end up straddling the man, keeping a hold on him by squeezing her thighs around his body as her hands pinned his arms above his head. The thrill of the fight having rendered Brienne blind of anything which wasn’t her triumph; it took her a full minute before she came to realize the exact way in which she had overpowered him. 

She was quick to roll off of him as soon as her brain regained composure; taking notice of the position she had left them in. 

Her silence unnerved him even more than his body’s reaction to having her pressed completely over him. 

She could feel his eyes on her as much as she could hear his ragged breathing next to her on the mat. Brienne closed her eyes trying to reassemble her mind, her feelings, and the disaster which had become her life ever since she had innocently grabbed a phone that was not hers. 

Things would have been a lot easier for Brienne if she could have just hated the man when learning about his twin. Brienne had tried to hate him; she had discovered she couldn’t. 

He was her attending, her mentor, and had somehow become a trusted and dear friend. 

Brienne took a deep breath, closed her eyes and prayed for courage. 

“I know about Myrcella.” She whispered and heard the sharp intake of breath given by Jaime, followed by a second of silence before he resumed breathing. 

Their breaths were the only sounds they heard for a full minute before Brienne broke the silence. “It still doesn’t give her the right though; to treat you as she does, to insult you. Just because you’re sleep- in a- just because-”

“Are you for real?” A question uttered without any hint of accusation, but rather filled with shame and disbelief. 

Brinne turned her head towards him, both still lying flat out on the sparring mat. Her eyes met his, tentative blue meeting astonished green. 

“She manipulates and insults-”

“Gods, Brienne,” he breathed out, sitting up straight. “That’s what you decide to take from learning that I fucked my sister -my  _ twin _ ! That  _ she’s _ the horrible one?” He was astonished, if not confused by her odd reaction. 

“She  _ is _ horrible! You’ve said so yourself; many times." She barked out as she followed him up. "And no! I almost threw up when I found out.” She felt her voice tremble, but was determined to finish voicing her thoughts. “And  _ gods _ did I want to hate you for it, I truly did. I still do, but I  _ can’t _ ! Because I know you; and because I know you’ve been suffering from your relationship with your twin -whatever it may be- for years! And the fact you’re sleeping with her doesn’t erase the rest of the stories, the rest of the facts!”

Jaime stood aghast, taking in her words one by one. She was angry, she had been angry for some time now. Her behaviour now made perfect sense to him; the aloofness, the awkwardness. And yet, she still looked at him through those astonishing eyes with a softness and a care, he had come to realize symbolized her loyal friendship towards him. 

What had Jaime ever done to deserve the forgiveness and friendship offered to him by this woman, this girl?

“I’m not in a relationship with her. I haven’t been -for  _ years _ . Cersei and I, we’re- well my family is complicated; you know that because I know I tend to bore you with stories about Tyrion and Tywin from time to time.”

“You don’t actually bore me, they’re somewhat amusing most of the time.”

Jaime couldn’t help the wry smile he offered her. 

“So you know my family is shit. That’s nothing compared to my history with Cersei. I like to believe she loved me, once; when we had been both young and stupid. Proud lions we were -all three of us really- it was the Lannister way. We were drawn to each other because we thought each other perfect, better than the rest. I grew to worship her; to love her deeply and fully, without any restraints or conditions. I think… she loved the idea of having me at her disposal to mold and move around a playing field she wasn’t allowed to touch. I was her as she was me; only I had a cock and she did not. For years I remained loyal, exclusive to her. I had naivly thought her to have done the same. Her relationship with Robert never bothered me; the man was an old, drunken fool who had been eager to get his hands on Lannister money, and Cersei had needed a husband. After he died though- Tyrion was the one who told me, before I ended up reading about it on some gossip column. Cersei had never been faithful to either her husband or me. Accodring to my brother, my sweet sister had been fucking everything she could sink her claws into ever since I had moved to KL.”

Brienne listened with the same rapt attention she had listened with when he had desperately confessed what had happened with Aerys and the fall of his once glorious reputation. She owed him as much. 

Jaime found no malice in her blue eyes. He could perceive concern, confusion and even a bit of awkwardness; but neither anger nor disgust remained. 

“I haven’t slept with her or  _ been _ with her, ever since that day. A fact which has culminated in the relationship I currently harbor with her; one which you’ve been the fortunate witness of. I guess now you understand my reason for being insistent on getting to know the children better.”

She did. She had thought it a mere curiosity, his interest in his niece and nephews. Now she knew though; Jaime’s attentions towards Myrcella and the boys were those of a father looking for a way into his daughter’s life. 

Brienne’s heart ached at the notion. 

“Do you want her to know?”

Jaime’s eyebrows shot up; his shoulders relaxing as he took in her question and small, almost invisible turn of lips. His sentence had been lifted. Jaime wasn’t sure he deserved her forgiveness, but he was far too selfish to ponder on the subject more than necessary. 

“No, her father was Robert. I just want the chance to get to know her.”

Brienne moved her hand to rest atop his for a second; her warmth engulfing him with a kindness which almost made Jaime tear up. 

\---------

“I don’t know what to get her for the Fifth day. I need help.”

Brienne groaned as she tried to balance three patient charts on one hand and her coffee mug in another, all while having her phone trapped between her left shoulder and ear. 

“Jaime, there’s twelve Nights in total; you’re not supposed to give presents on  _ every _ night.”

“Lannisters do.”

“I have no idea what to give to a twelve year-old girl. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly-,” she grunted in relief as she deposited the charts upon the nurse’s station, “-a model example of femininity.”

“You’re the most girlish girl I know.”

“I am pretty sure that was an insult.”

“It wasn’t.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in mild frustration. “I just meant- your character is sweet. Your punch is still a lethal one though; don’t fret about it.” His comment earned him a small chuckle and Jaime felt himself smile because of it. He missed her. 

KLG was a rutting hole filled with way too many patients and not enough space to keep them all. It wasn’t the paradise Harrenhal or the Citadel had been, but it was good work. 

His reinstatement application had finally been approved; he had received the confirmation letter two weeks ago. Brienne had found him with tears in his eyes and a trembling right hand which had gotten her own eyes filled with concern, until he had suddenly embraced her. He still laughed when he remembered her stunned expression as he had let her go. 

He had wanted to celebrate by letting her scrubb in on a Nissen procedure, but had been presented with an obligated two weeks vacation; and right on time for the Long Night celebrations to begin. 

“I can just imagine what you asked for as a child; a lab coat? Some quirky sci-fi book or Ser Duncan comic you had to have but had been too ashamed of buying yourself?”

Brienne went red even if he wasn’t anywhere near to tease her about it. She found herself missing his obvious and tired jest. 

She shouldn’t have ever told him about her love for science fiction. 

“No, those I did buy myself. At her age I asked for a sable.” Brienne swore she heard him gulp. 

“Sable?”

“I fenced, remember? I swear I told you about it before. Loras and I used to fence back in prep school. I stopped when I entered Evenfall U.”

Jaime shook his head in disbelief. She had told him about it, way back during the first few days of their acquaintance. 

“When I get back to KL we -resident, are fencing.”

“But-”

“Not buts. You, me and the good old dance of sword fighting.”

The blush which suddenly graced her face was one produced by neither anger nor embarrassment. 

\--------

He got Myrcella a blade of her own. The girl loved it. Cersei did not. He never told Brienne. 

\---------

“Renly!”

Her apartment held about ten different people inside whom Brienne had no knowledge of ever having met. 

As she stepped inside, quickly removing her overcoat and hat, she was grateful to recognize Margaery sitting on a stool near their kitchen island; Loras hanging on her arm. 

“What in seven hells is  _ this _ ?”

Margaery’s face lit up on seeing the taller woman; her arms changing from handling her clearly drunk friend, to embracing Brienne in an emotional hug. Brienne could whiff out the smell of Arbor Gold coming from her friend's breath; not enough to incapacitate, but enough to add giggles to every sentence uttered by the young woman. 

“We invited-”, she got interrupted by Loras, who slurred a word which Brienne could not make out at all. 

“ _ Fine _ . Renly invited the new residents over for a quick ice breaking shindig.”

Brienne’s head was still spinning. Her nose getting hit by different smells, all of them making her as dizzy as if she had been drinking herself. 

“Brie, come on! This is our last week as first-years! Gregor is leaving, Aemon is moving to another shift, Lannister has been approved to be reinstated as primary. There are a thousand reasons to celebrate and have fun! There’s more to life than watching old Dunk and Egg movies with boring old men.” The giggle Margaery gave made the woman’s attempt at making Brienne squirm, futile. 

“It only happened once. We ran into each other that day.”

Margaery didn’t press, but did manage to shove a cup of the Arbor Gold she was drinking into Brienne’s hand. The smell alone was enough to make Brienne gag. 

“Oh and Brie, there was this one guy asking for you.” Brienne could not stop the small smile from teasing her lips as she took in her friend’s lively delivery of the sentence. “Some Hyle-something; says you  _ know _ him?”

The smile fell before it could fully blossom. 

What the  _ fuck _ was Hyle doing in King's Landing? 

\---------

Being a second-year resident was almost as tedious as being a first-year; or at least, that was how Brienne felt. Sandor kept insisting their rekindled exhaustion to be a product of the new first-year’s incompetence; and for the first time in all the months she had known the Hound, Brienne felt inclined to agree with him. 

Three new surgical residents had been roaming the halls of King’s Landing General Hospital for three weeks now, and yet Brienne didn’t feel as if their presence made much of a difference. 

There was soft Peck, a young man from the Westerlands with good hands but slow feet. Stark, Catelyn’s eldest daughter Sansa; bright of mind but quicker to scare than Jon had been. And Hyle, whose only goal during his first few days at KLG appeared to have been to try and get Brienne to forgive him. 

She was  _ tired _ . Her feet had started aching again, and her hands were starting to develop a slight tremble she couldn’t allow. She needed a break. A break from KLG, from being in charge of first-years; a break from Hyle  _ fucking _ Hunt. 

His annoying persistence in earning an apology would have not bothered Brienne much if the man would have kept his groveling between them. He hadn’t. 

Her second-year night-shift team felt more evenly balanced than her first-year’s had been. Jon was still with her; they had developed a nice system to work under, which both were glad to be given the opportunity to continue with. Clegane had insisted to stay on with the  _ ‘beast of a woman’ _ ; claiming Brienne to have been the best of her year. Aemon, as had been requested; had been moved from her shift, unfortunately falling into Margaery’s (Brienne had apologized to her friend in advance). Hyle had somehow managed to weasel his way into her shift, and had not wasted any time in taking full advantage of it. 

Brienne had thought she would never have to deal with what happened at the beginning of her internship ever again. Her name had been cleared from all records; the interns and residents which had participated in the embarrassing act had all scattered away to different parts of the country. The idea that Hyle had somehow managed to arrive at KLG felt surreal. 

“So, you’re  _ not _ going to tell me?” Jaime inquired as they worked on a splenectomy. 

“No,  _ -Kelly- _ it truly isn’t important. He was at Harrenhal same time I was, there’s no more to it.”

_ You’re keeping something from me  _ -again _ . _

“Brienne,  _ -Mayo- _ the man follows you around like kicked pup.”

Sandor gave a deep amusing chuckle which went by ignored by the other two surgeons; an occurrence he was more than used to witnessing. 

“He tried to go out with me, back then. Kept asking me out for tea and beer. I told him I preferred coffee, but he never got the hint.” 

Her eyes avoided Jaime's questioning ones, her ears acquiring a nice pink shade as she moved around Clegane’s dissection with the practised ease of a third or fourth year. 

_ I trust you. Why can’t you trust me?  _

“Good. We both know your taste in men is questionable at best; if you’d told me you had accepted the dick’s offer I would have had to seriously reconsider our friendship.”

She did manage to roll her eyes at his statement before resuming her subtle avoidance of him. 

Hyle Hunt was an idiot. The man was handsome enough, intelligent some and did have a way of acquiring everything you needed faster than the other fist-years; but Jaime could not deny there was an eerie air about him. 

“He’s mostly harmless; he was not the worst of the lot.”

Jaime stopped, his head snapping up with his brows furrowed. 

“Lot? Just how many suitors did you happen to have at Harrenhal, and why hadn’t I been aware of it?”

Brienne’s head snapped in worry, realizing her mouth had decided to press on the subject without her mind's full consent. The subject of what had occurred during her second month of internship was one she tended to avoid thinking on. It had been months since she had last thought about the incident, before Hyle had turned up and had forcefully opened up her memory box. 

She knew Jaime would not judge; she even had an inkling he would get mad on her behalf as he had done with Aemon. But she wasn’t keen on letting every other person inside the OR in on her misfortunes. 

He sounded more judgemental and incredulous than he had originally wanted to come across as; the prospect of Brienne having been subjected to the frivolous dates and relationships one would usually encounter during an internship making his skin heat up with something akin to jealousy. 

“Is the concept so incredulous?”

“No! I just- you were never one to- you’re still…”

Her blue eyes met his, a plea in them for him to stop. He did. 

\---------

Jaime stormed the resident’s oncall room, not caring if he came across Jon and Ygritte fucking (as he had done once before), or a naked Clegane (he still had nightmares about that particular incident). He needed to see her, needed to- he still didn’t know exactly what. 

“Brienne!”

“Hey! Knock! You’re not allowed in here! You know that!”

She jumped from the bunk bed where she had been sitting with a book in her hands and thumb in her mouth in deep concentration. 

She stood taller than him, blue eyes startled and filled with confusion.

“Jaime?” She prompted, not understanding his reason for yelling so early into his shift. He usually didn’t lose his temper until well past three am. 

“They made a  _ bet _ ?”

_ Fuck _ . Hyle. 

Her face fell, her blue eyes widening in horror. She tried to divert her eyes, but Jaime didn’t allow her to scurry away from him so easily. He took a step towards her, closing the door to the confined room behind him. 

Brienne felt the air inside the small oncall room grow thick and heavy as he waited for her answer. 

“It was nothing. It was a silly-”

“They fucking made a bet on who would sleep with you first.  _ Gods _ , Brienne!”

“No one won; I didn’t- I found out about it -eventually.”

“And you think the fact you didn’t let anyone fuck you, makes the situation  _ better _ ?”

“It was a silly bet. Not one of them got close enough to even consider the possibility of winning!”

“Hyle tells it differently.”

Brienne didn’t know what hurt her more; the fact that Jaime was forcing her mind to relive those tedious and frustrating days when she had thought people had actually shown genuine interest in her, or the fact he had gone to Hyle for the story. 

_ Don’t you trust me? You only had to ask without an audience present.  _

“Five men; three interns and two residents, made a bet. I don’t  _ know _ why. They just did. The terms were simple; whoever got to fuck me first won. Four of them tried to get my attention by being their usual  _ charming _ selves, so I never even considered them a possibility. Mostly I felt confused as to why they had been buying me food and complimenting me on my plain appearance. Hyle went for subtlety. He would offer to help me with a note, joke about the attendings with me. He was nice. I hadn’t been  _ interested _ in him, but I had thought him my friend.”

“Brienne-”

“No, you let me finish. Because Hyle was by far the nicest of them, which also made him the worst. He offered friendship in exchange for my virginity, and I can not forgive him - _ that _ .”

Jaime’s face went pale. It took Brienne a second to realize what her mouth had decided to share. 

Jaime had presumed, but aside from his forced confession regarding his affair with Cersei, they had always tended to avoid discussing their sex lives. He had teased her about her prudish ways and maidenly blushes in the past (and still did on occasion), but had never dared to ask for confirmation on his suspicions. 

“Did they know?”

Out of all the things Brienne had thought he would say, he surprised her with the question. No tease, no mock, no judgement. 

“What do you mean?”

“Those assholes, did they know you were a- a virgin?”

_ Are _ . Brienne withheld a pained scoff, yet her eyes betrayed her hurt. 

“ _ Look _ at me, Jaime.”

Her voice was strained, almost pained. Jaime gulped down the rising anger within him. 

“Did they  _ know _ ?”

“Yes,” she whispered; finally finding the opportunity to lower her gaze from his eyes towards her feet. She could not bear his pity. 

“I’m taking Hyle off your shift. No questions asked.”

“I can handle Hyle just fine.”

“I trust  _ you _ can; but I don’t trust myself and what I would do if I ever see him hovering over you again. And I don’t think my hand can endure another rage-induced fist fight.”

Brienne found herself surprised by the honesty being emitted in his words. Most of all, she found herself aghast at the fact he didn’t seem to emanate any sort of pity or judgement upon learning of her situation. 

Jaime took his time to observe her; his breathing measured, his left hand clenching with stored up energy. He sometimes forgot the woman was young; that her physical strength did not signify emotional strength as well. 

She looked exhausted, much like she had during her first month as a first-year. Bags under eyes, hair longer than he was used to seeing, mix-matched scrubs and three different books spread out on the bunk bed. She was driving herself into exhaustion. All while having to handle Hyle and the memories he brought along with him. 

She was walking a fine line between sanity and her breaking point. 

“Please tell me you didn’t already punch him.”

She needed breathable air, a softer tone of conversation, a reminder of what her life currently was and not the hurricane of insults and jokes it had once been. 

“I wanted to. Jon stepped in and made me reconsider.”

“Good, that stupid bet has already given me enough headaches to last me a lifetime.” She finally moved away from him; her body regaining what little strength it still held, in order to get her books from where they had fallen upon his sudden arrival. 

“Brienne,” he called; a softness in his voice which made Brienne’s chest instantly warm. “Kick their asses next time you see any of them.”

She gave him a soft chuckle, half amused-half ashamed. Jaime wished she didn’t feel ashamed, but knew from the small quips and stories she had shared with him over the past year, it would take years until Brienne finished feeling comfortable in her own skin. 

“Already did.”

At that, he laughed. 

“I told you, I don’t need fussing over. I have a mean left hook, you’ve told me so yourself; more than once.”

She did. He had. 

Both their phones dinged at the same time, efficiently bursting the bubble they had created around them. Someone was looking for them. 

Briene took hers out, worrying her lower lip as she read over Jon's message. 

“Jon’s-”

“You didn’t let him kiss you, did you?” Jaime’s mind ran away with him as Hunt’s voice still rang inside his mind. _ ‘Face like that, lips like those. We wanted to fuck her, not kiss her.’ _

“What?” Brienne’s eyes widened once again; her cheeks flushing red. 

“Hyle, or any of the others.”

“No!” Her quick response made Jaime smirk. 

“But you have been kissed though right? Properly so.” He couldn’t help the question. It was as if a dam had been opened inside his mind. Questions he had never dared to profusely think on, now took form and needed to get voiced out. Jaime found himself craving the answers.

Brienne needed a way out. She had known his soft comprehension had been too good to be true. She stumbled back from him, something she hadn't done since their days at Harrenhal. 

He took another step towards her; a smirk still playing on his face, green eyes filled with their customary mirth. 

“Doctor Lannister-”

“ _ Resident _ ?” 

“Jon’s waiting for you at-”

“You haven’t, have you?”

“Please,” she breathed out, hating herself for pleading for him to stop, for allowing her heart to race because of his nearing presence. 

Jaime could see it now. Tall, awkward, always serious and pensive Brienne, crushing on Renly fucking Baratheon; being devoted to either him or her studies. She had never shown interest in dating, and why would she? When she had freely given her heart to a man who had only ended up breaking it? When she had discovered the passion of surgery at an early age?

He really shouldn’t, there were a thousand of reasons  _ why _ he couldn’t; but he thought of Hyle or any of the other prickly, idiotic interns Jaime had met through the years, having been at risk of becoming Brienne’s first. It made Jaime skin’s boil. Brienne deserved someone better than Hyle Hunt. She could do better than Hyle  _ fucking _ Hunt. 

Jaime had never been a fan of rules anyway. 

He reached for her face with his right hand; the sudden movement startling Brienne enough to yelp, but not enough to counterattack. 

Her brain froze, her heart stopped beating and her legs started trembling as she felt his breath upon her face. 

_ All lips were made for kissing, Brienne; including yours _ . 

He rose up and met her lips with the barest of pressures, giving her the option to either hit or punch him. What she responded with was not a sound he had ever heard come from the young woman. She gave a small hum before giving the slightest of twitches; a soft and almost undetectable opening of her lips that had Jaime not been thoroughly aware of her entire being, he would have never felt it. 

He couldn't do this.  _ She _ couldn’t do this. He was her attending. She was his resident. He was a Lannister. She was no one. He was The Warrior in human form. She was plain -at best. 

She parted her lips further, her body seemingly eager of doing the exact opposite of what her brain was telling it to do. 

Jaime’s chest had angered in her stead as he had heard Hunt’s crude narration of the events which had transpired during Brienne’s second month of internship. Jaime had felt anger, at both himself and the cunts who had treated Brienne no better than a common whore. 

He hadn’t expected the rush of warmth he felt when his lips had pressed against hers; he hadn’t ever expected to even  _ kiss _ her. She was Brienne; tough as nails, soft as butter, body of a fighter, soul of a knight. She was the embodiment of everything good the medical world offered and beyond. 

The well known feeling of arousal sprung to life in his mind at the delight of suddenly having Brienne fully pressed up against him, with her mouth wonton and eager; her throat giving out soft humms, and her right hand fisted in his scrubs as if he were an anchor. Jaime stopped because he feared what his traitorous body would do if he didn’t. 

As Jaime finally released her lips, both eager for a breath, Brienne could only think he had been right. She hadn’t  _ ever _ been kissed; not like  _ that _ . 

They both breathed heavily, amused green eyes meeting stunned blue ones. 

“You said Jon was waiting for me where?” He barely got out, his breathing still somewhat erratic.

“Uh, in the- prep room? No, the-”

“That good, huh?” 

“Oh shut up!  _ This _ didn’t happen. This was us under exhaustive stress and- and-”

“Brienne,” she stopped rambling; her hands covering her reddened embarrassed face. “It happened, grant me at least the opportunity to acknowledge it.”

She nodded, with her face still hidden under her palms. 

“Brienne,” he called once more; eager for her to look at him. 

“Yes?”

“It was just a kiss.”  _ Understatement of the fucking year. _

“I know, I know. I’m- I’m sorry, my brain has been short circuiting all day.”

Jamie chuckled. “Come on; the sooner we deal with these idiots, the better for everyone.”

He ached for familiarity, to bring them back on the solid and peculiar friendship ground they had been treading through during the last few months. 

Something inside Jaime had snapped, could not bear to tolerate the idea of Brienne succumbing to an idiot’s charms and mediocre displays of supposed affection. He had not expected to feel his blood boil, his heart pound, his damn cock stir. 

He threw her his most familiar of smiles, one soft and knowing, and hoped it would be enough to levelhead both of them. 

They would be fine, Jaime was certain; once they could get the taste of the other off their lips, their scent off their minds and their touch off their skins. 

They had to be fine, because losing Brienne’s friendship was not something Jaime was eager to accomplish. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Aemon is not actually any known Targaryen character. I used the name because I would like to think that even thousands of years after the events of canon ASOIAF the Targaryen names are still used. So that character is an OC with a borrowed name.


	8. another piece of my heart just layin' on the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks turn into months and the memory of their kiss lingers on. Brienne gets the opportunity to visit Dorne. Tyrion visits and shares his wisdom. Brienne is finally a third-year and things appear to finally start settling down. Or not.
> 
> Or: Denial is a nice place to live. Until it's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who reads, leaves kudos and comments! I love you all.
> 
> Next part. Like I said, they're all long now. So, another long chapter. A lot happens. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Title from Look What I've Found from A Star is Born.

Brienne could now tell why Loras had scurried back home after his win at the Fencing World Championship on Dorne three years ago. The once independent kingdom was  _ hot _ . It was nearing the end of winter and yet the sands of Dorne remained warm and dry, as if the autumn season could not entirely reach so far south of the country. 

Brienne had grown up in the Stormlands; she was a girl of water and breeze, of meadows of green. Having lived in King’s Landing for a little over a year and half had not changed that. Brienne would still loathe the summers and thrive in the mild spring. 

She complained as much to Jaime, who insisted on calling her every day to dutifully inform Brienne of the misgivings her first-year residents participated in, and of Clegane’s apparent decrease in tolerance ever since she had left for her two-month rotation on Dorne. 

“If you tell me it’s hot again, I will hang up on you.”

“It’s hot.” She shot back, calling his bluff. He never hung up. 

“Martell has been pestering me with tales of his homeland and I’ve gotta say he paints a prettier picture than you do, resident.”

Brienne wasn’t surprised; to the Dornish, the dry and vast land was just the unfortunate background where their lively and frivolous cities were constructed. Dorne was home to a whole other lifestyle; one which made Brienne comprehend why the southern land had been the last of the kingdoms of old to have entered the unified realm. Unlike most of the country, Dorne had somehow preserved most of its old customs; brothels were legal, marriage fickle and their holidays colorful and much more vibrant than those celebrated on the rest of the island. It was a whirlwind of colors, smells and tastes which on better days overwhelmed Brienne, and on worse exhausted her.

“It’s a fine country. I still prefer the Stormlands.”

“It rains more than not in the Stormlands.”

“I find rain quieting, soothing.”

Jaime chuckled. “Of course you do.”

“Shut it and go back to work, Lannister.”

She heard him shuffle along, probably changing his phone from one hand to the other; the odd sounds she could hear coming through the line those she had grown used to hearing in the almost two years she had been at KL and now found herself desperately missing. 

“When do you get back?”

Brienne rolled her eyes. He asked the same question every night. 

“A week before the year begins. I’ve told you.  _ Repeatedly _ .”

Jaime could picture her as clear as if she weren’t hundreds of miles from him. Probably hunched over some kind of desk, hair disheveled, eyes closed and pensive, scowl in place, counting the seconds until she could hang up on him and go back to sleep. 

“I have a fickle mind.”

“You have a sharp mind. I’ll get back before your change to days is finalized. Goodnight, Jaime.”

“What? No lengthy lecture tonight on the-”

“Good  _ night _ .”

Jaime inhaled, sharp and quick, a dead sign of annoyance. Brienne felt like taking the risk; her mind was tired and she knew from experience she couldn’t trust her mind near Jaime whenever it danced around the exhaustion line. Too many idiocities had it already done and accepted because of it. 

“Goodnight, Brienne.”

She could tell, just by the way he uttered her name -soft and almost caring, that he had wanted to say something more but had restrained from doing so. Brienne gave her own heavy sigh as she hung up, ceremoniously throwing the phone across her bed. 

She would be back in three weeks. Three weeks and she would see him and his annoying, knowing, gorgeous green eyes again. Brienne grabbed her pillow and groaned into it as she used to do back during prep school. It had always felt comforting then. She felt silly for doing so now, but the act of it gave her hands a purpose and her mind the opportunity to wander through thoughts of days long forgotten. 

She had once dared to think that time would grow to become her greatest ally. That her awkwardness would pass, her features would soften, her size would regularize. But time had not been kind to her adolescent self; it had not made Brienne prettier, shaper, or stand out less in a crowd. She had hoped time would finally find itself on her side; it had not. It had been months since she had felt Jaime’s lips touch her own and she could still remember their exact feel, his dizzying smell, and his ardent touch. 

For two weeks after they had kissed inside the resident’s oncall room, she hadn’t been able to look at him in the eye without blushing. She had finally been able to control her unwanted reaction when Margaery had informed Brienne of the rumors their odd behavior had sprung; that both had finally starting fucking. 

With the greatest blush known to men, Brienne had whispered the story to Jaime between cuts and dissections during their next shift together. Jaime had raged and cursed and promised Brienne he would stop the rumor from spreading. He had gotten so distracted during the rest of the surgery, Brienne had ended up having to correct him for the better part of it.

She had straightened her spine and had found the courage to confront him about it right after they had finished the procedure. She had apologized for her girlish behavior. He had apologized for his carelessness managing. They had fought, had proceeded to insult each other and had eventually apologized for both their stubborn and rash behavior. They had somehow ended their shift sharing their dinner on the locker room's floor, content in having regained a sense of familiarity between them.

Brienne had thought that would be the end of their awkward situation. 

The sense of calm and peace had only managed to last two weeks, before Jaime had somehow managed to casually bring their kiss into a conversation. It had been the first time Brienne had ever seen Sandor miss his cue during a procedure. 

It got mentioned again a few days after that, with Sansa Stark having cornered Brienne right before leaving the hospital; blue eyes wide and almost maternal, a gaze so alike her mother’s, Brienne had found herself spilling the entire story to the redhead. Sansa had given Brienne a quick hug which had served to confuse the second-year even further. 

“It was nothing, Sansa. I’m not- And he’s not- He’s a friend, I’ve known him for a couple of years, that’s it.”

The redhead had given Brienne an almost saddened smile and had quickly turned towards where Sandor Clegane had been conspicuously waiting for her. 

The incident had never been mentioned by third parties ever again. 

Jaime would indulge himself by reminding Brienne of it every so often, claiming to enjoy the startling look of horror she would get whenever he mentioned it. Brienne had punched him once for bringing it up in front of Hyle, and another for having casually let it drop in front of the Hospital’s Chief. 

They had never seriously talked about it. About how she had stifled a moan; about how his hand had brushed the soft flesh peaking above her scrubbs; about how they both had ended up with a shortness of breath and a flush of their skins. 

Brienne still found herself fighting those intrusive thoughts and memories every time he called and claimed he missed her, with a voice so sincere it was a struggle to ignore. 

Brienne cursed him, she cursed him for being attractive, for being pretty, for being attentive, kind, loyal. She cursed his endearing concern and his persistent inquiry over her health and mental stability. Most of all she cursed his unconditional friendship. His support and friendship were the dearest things she possessed now. 

Brienne hated the fact she continuously needed to remind herself of that particular fact, every time her brain decided to splurge on her the unnecessary feelings of want and desire aimed towards one Jaime Lannister. 

\--------

He missed her. More than he had ever missed anyone before; even more than he had ever missed his sister.

He sometimes wondered how he had ended up in his current predicament; an almost forty year-old, with a teenage daughter and a half-assed career. His frail reputation holding on by a single thread, which every day took more and more the form of one Brienne Tarth. 

Stubborn mule of a woman, who judged his every move and decision without any prejudice, any contempt. A strong mind, with quick hands, and sharp wit when given the right circumstances (for she still couldn’t construct a joke on the spot, even if she wanted to); she had enraptured him. 

Jaime missed her homely face, her scowling lips, her clear and soulful eyes. He missed her frame, always sturdy and sure in step (such a contrast from the constantly fumbling girl he had met only three years ago). Most of all he missed her companionship, her friendship. Nights when he worked alongside her; days when he would get the opportunity to beat or get beaten by her on the mat or inside the ring (he was getting better at boxing; she had proven to be a formidable instructor). 

He had given her a parting gift, with the promise to visit when she had left. Two months she had reminded him. Two months and she would be back to kicking his ass once more. He had watched her step inside the cab, his gifted travel bag slung over her shoulders, a quick and small smile adorning her lips.

Her lips. 

He had never meant for the kiss to haunt either of them as it had. It had been willingly given and without any hidden or second intention. He had not expected to find himself drowning in her, to find himself continuosly  _ wanting _ her. 

He had been an idiot. He had tried to brush it off as nothing, and had almost managed to convince himself of it -but for her eyes. Blue eyes; open and honest and trying to desperately hide their sudden lust from him, made the situation impossible to ignore. The attraction existed; on  _ both _ sides. But they couldn't  _ -he _ couldn’t. No matter how desperately Jaime found himself craving more of her ever since that day. 

Thankfully, the incident and subsequent revelations hadn’t managed to screw their relationship as much as he had feared it would. He still teased her mercilessly and she still quipped back; he still encouraged her to lead in their procedures, and she still glared every time he deviated from protocol. Most importantly, she still enjoyed his company as much as he did hers. 

With the young Stark having successfully replaced Hyle on Brienne’s night shift, Jaime’s working relationships ran smoother and therefore the impending threat of a misconduct reprimand had ceased to exist, allowing for Jaime’s petition for his move back to the dayshift to finally pull through. He was set to move on the day Brienne returned from Dorne; just a little over a week before she moved on to become a third-year resident and Sandor was finally granted the complete control of the residents on the surgical floor by becoming a fourth-year.

“You should really stop smiling to yourself so much, or now it will be the doubt of your mental stability that which prevents you from climbing up the surgical ladder.”

His brother's voice brought Jaime back to the bar where he had agreed to meet with his younger brother and lawyer. 

“I was not smiling.” He argued, biting down a grin as he defended himself. 

“Sure you weren’t. I also assume that the thoughts of a blond giantess who happens to wear an almost identical ridiculous grin on her face whenever she thinks of you, are not what prompted your momentary lapse of insanity.”

Jaime scoffed, motioning for the bartender to take their orders. Keeping thoughts of Brienne away from his mind was already was hard enough without his brother pestering him about them. 

Tyrion rolled his eyes in amusement. 

“I don’t kid, Jaime. I was in Dorne last week, happened to stroll through Sun’s Hospital on a quick errand and managed to see her there. I talked with her for a bit while I waited for Tysha to finish up whatever it was she had needed to get done. She looked as tall and tired as I remembered her being.”

Jaime tried to remain neutral, to not let his feelings betray him to his own brother; but the temptation of softly smiling as he got confirmation of her wellbeing was too great and felt himself sighing with evident relief. 

“Missing you terribly, might I add. She reminded me of you and your sad pathetic whines.”

“I don’t whine.”

“Yes, you do. Anyway, she told me you two talked frequently enough; that she was proud of your move to days and that she was getting tired of Dorne’s heat. Poor girl had not slept in more than thirty-six hours; I am sure she never would have voluntarily given up so much information if she had been well rested.”

Jaime could not help the chuckle from escaping, nor the flash of concern which invaded his mind as he thought about Brienne overworking herself past the point of exhaustion. He had been witness to her breaking point once; he had made her swear she would never allow herself to fall so low again. She had made him promise to look after himself in return. It had been a fair compromise. 

“She’s fine. She got out of there at the same time I did. Though I do have to admit this concern you have for her is bordering on becoming sickeningly sweet.”

Another scoff, followed by their respective drink orders; Arbor Gold for him, Dornish Red for his brother. 

“You didn’t call me to tease me about Brienne. You called with a threat, from our sweet sister.”

“I hoped we would be at least three drinks in before we had even dared to think mentioning her name.”

Jaime grinned, a catlike gesture which would sometimes make Tyrion want to beat it off his devilishly handsome face. 

“We haven’t actually mentioned her yet.” Jaime teased. 

“Let’s talk about Brienne again, I enjoyed that conversation a lot more.”

Their drinks arrived and both Lannister brothers thanked the young bartender. Jaime sipped his while Tyrion swirled it around in ceremony. Jaime did not always understand Tyrion’s fascination with drink. To Jaime a drink was just a means to an end. A nice way of getting you relaxed, a nice way of getting you to forget. To Tyrion it had always been more of a ritual, which to this day Jaime did not comprehend. Out of three Lannisters, Jaime was the one who hadn’t inclined to favor the bottle as his trusting companion. 

“Is it allowed now?” Tyrion inquired after finally taking a sip of his drink; his mix-matched eyes firmly planted on Jaime, carefully watching his face and reactions with strange fascination. He had always been calculating, even as a young child. 

“ _ What _ is allowed?”

“A relationship between a resident and an attending? I thought it went against the moral codes and honor shit you doctors like to keep.”

Jaime raised his eyebrows, far calmer than Tyrion would have assumed his brother capable of reacting. 

“We’re not dating, we’re not in a relationship -we’re not even fucking.”

“You want to though, right?”

“What?”

“Fuck her. I can see it in the way your eyes gloss every time you mention her; which I must admit, you do a lot.”

“I’ve seen you  _ three _ times during the last year. The last of it being well over four months ago.”

“You don’t deny it though.”

He cursed his little brother. Cursed him for bringing her up right when he had wanted to forget about her -if only for a night. 

“I am not discussing this with you; or anyone for that matter. My relationship with Brienne is that of profound friendship, nothing more.”

Tyrion quirked his eyebrow at him as he almost emptied his drink. 

“You hated the girl.”

“I never hated her. I was annoyed by her; and the feeling barely lasted a day. She’s amazing inside the OR, always has been. She possesses a rare gift, and I’ve always been able to see that; ever since that first time I dragged her in to assist me and Bronn. I didn’t hate her.”

He hadn't; he had admired her work and had enjoyed riling her up. He had been frustrated with her hesitance and her stubbornness, but those qualities had only ended up making her dear to him. If it hadn’t been for her mulishness to see him through after his hand had been wrecked… Jaime shuddered at the possibilities he could see himself embracing. 

“Our sister has never met the girl, has she?” Tyrion’s eyes widened as he came to the realization of the dire consequences there would be when Cersei got wind of the young woman who had stolen Jaime and his affections from her. 

“Gods, no!”

“Good, keep it that way.” He took another sip, swiftly finishing the drink. “That girl is far too nice for her own good. Our sister would eat her alive if she got wind of whatever it is you two have.”

“We have-”

“Look. You can claim it’s only a friendship, and fine; I am inclined to believe you, because you’ve been mostly a dimwitted fool for most of your life when it comes to relationships. Or well -relationship; since our sister exclusively owns that facet of your life. But the fact is you care for Brienne -you do; and she cares for you too. I met her, I talked to her  _ -trust _ me. She’s also the first person outside of the Lannister name you’ve ever shown any interest in. Cersei's going to eat her alive, regardless of what either of you dumbassess claim.”

Jaime felt slapped. He had opened his mouth three times during his brother’s assertion, and had closed it every one, without getting a single word to spring from his lips. Tyrion was right. 

“Shit, now we’ve got to talk about her. Why is it we can never have a decent conversation between us, without her fucking golden curls bouncing around; threatening to suffucate the life out of every good thing in our lives?”

Jaime scoffed. “Such flair for dramatics,” he boasted as he motioned for the young bartender to refill his brother’s drink. 

“You  _ have _ met our family, I presume?” Tyrion quipped back. 

“Sadly, yes.”

The brothers managed to take a couple of more sips in silence; Tyrion building up the necessary courage, while Jaime contemplated what would happen if his sister ever met Brienne. He shuddered at the scenarios his mind managed to conjure up. 

“She’s moving.”

“Who is?”

“Cersei,” Tyrion paused, his eyes drifting above Jaime’s head. “She’s taking the children with her.  _ All _ of them.”

Jaime huffed, his nostrils flared, and his eyes shaded themselves with a blind anger and consuming sadness. “Where is she moving to?”

“Back home. She called me in a fit about three days ago. Told me she had tried to call you because  _ you _ had driven Tommen from his soccer practice and hadn’t arrived home yet.”

“I told her we hit traffic, Seven Hells.”

“Yes, yes. She was yelling, she was cursing; most importantly -she threatened to leave. Now, it wasn’t the first time she had done that. I didn’t take her seriously and told her as much. She cursed you, she cursed me, and she ceremoniously ended her ranging rant by cursing the fact you ever found about Myrcella being yours.”

His brother’s tone told Jaime the rest, yet he continued to listen, somehow controlling his boiling anger within him. The only physical evidence of his distress being the continuous flexing of his right hand. 

“She heard, Jaime.” Tyrion watched his brother’s face turn a deep shade of red then slowly start to pale in fright. He watched Jaime’s breathing start to come in short and calculated pants, while his right hand twitched with an energy Tyrion had grown used to seeing in his brother whenever someone dared to insult anyone Jaime cared for. 

“And Cersei, being Cersei, obviously handled it  _ -perfectly _ .”

“She went into hysterics.”

Tyrion gave a sarcastic chuckle. “She screamed and damned  _ me _ for ruining everything.” He took a sip of his drink, using the movement to avert his brother’s gaze as he continued on with the story. “She then proceeded to try and get  _ me _ to explain to a confused thirteen year-old what had happened between the two of you.”

Jaime slid his drink over the side of the bar, moving it with his right hand; the thump and crack of the crystal echoing in the almost empty bar. 

“I didn’t. I was tempted to.” He took another sip. “But this is  _ your _ mess; both of yours. I told Cersei as much. The conversation ended with Myrcella sniffing and Cersei cursing. I hung up.”

Jaime closed his eyes as he leveled his breathing, not daring to look over at his brother. 

“She called me back yesterday to inform me she’s taking the kids back to the Westerlands; back to Casterly.”

“And Myrcella?” He had to know, he had to ask about his daughter. She had only been claimed as a Lannister for a couple of years, but ever since she had been born Jaime had felt an instinctive paternal draw towards her. Same as he had with Tommen. He loved those kids. He had never wished for them to get caught in any of his screwups. 

“She’s starting therapy once she gets to the Rock. Cersei claims she hasn’t come out of her room. Tommen and Joff remain oblivious. Joff really doesn’t give a shit, little cunt that he is. Tommen just finds it odd and thinks it part of his sister being a teenager now.”

Jaime cursed, apologizing to the bartender who had arrived to clean up the mess he had previously made with his drink. 

Jaime had moved to King’s Landing with the hope of building up a relationship with those kids -with his daughter. The excuse and opportunity Payne had provided him had been a gift from the gods Jaime no longer prayed to. He had known he wasn’t deserving of Myrcella’s affection; he hadn’t wanted to become a father to a girl who had recently lost the only paternal figure she had ever known. He had only wanted the opportunity of being allowed in the girl’s life. Cersei had raged and conditioned his relationship with her children; to which Jaime had blindly obliged, grateful for the given chance, no matter the size of it. 

“You have three days before she takes the kids to Casterly. Tommen asked about you. Joff is still behaving like the cunt he’s always been. I haven’t talked with Myrcie; no one has.”

Jaime ordered another drink. 

\--------

Brienne would have never thought she would one day grow to enjoy the smells of King’s Landing. Somewhere in the last two years, the wretched city had become home. After two months of sand, and heat, and quiet; Brienne found herself smiling as she took in the chaotic city. 

“Dorne was good to you, then?” Margaery asked as Brienne stepped outside the elevator; coffee in hand, hair loose, notes in her other hand. 

The petite woman looked as fresh as Margaery could look after the end of a night shift. 

“I’m just glad to be back. Please tell me nothing imploded or exploded or radically changed while I was gone.”

“So, you don’t want to know all about Clegane’s sudden change in humor?”

Brienne chuckled as she took a sip of the sinfully good coffee she had brought back from Dorne (one of the country’s few charms). “Already knew about that one. Try a new one.”

“Right,” Margaery teased as she stole Brienne’s cup for a taste of her own, nearly moaning in pleasure. “Gods that’s good, I hope you brought me a stash.”

“Marge…”

“Sorry; Aemon kept trying to sabotage a procedure last night; kept me busy for the better part of the evening.”

“My condolences. Surely the place hasn’t gone that crazy?” Brienne prompted as her eyes did a quick search across the different halls they moved by. 

Margaery took notice of her friend’s split attention; blue eyes always so expressive. “Gods, you don’t know; do you?”

Brienne shifted. “What do you mean?”

“You’re looking for him. Don’t try and deny it, not to me. He’s not here. His transfer got suddenly rebuffed. Stoneheart came in at the end of one of his shifts, talked to him for about an hour. The man cursed and pleaded, but it was for naught.”

_ Wait, what?  _

“I talked to him yesterday…”  _ Why didn’t he tell me?  _

“Hey, don’t go overthinking things. He’s been busy, what with half his family suing the other half…”

Brienne laid a hand atop her friend’s arm, a signal from her to please stop. 

“Hey, we’ve got one more week of being second-years. We get fresh meat in a week. Most importantly, Aemon finally leaves, and Sandor will finally be a fourth-year.”

Brienne nodded, her mind split between paying her friend the attention she deserved and going over every conversation she had entailed with Jaime during the last few weeks. 

“Wait, I got it. This piece of information is new and will drive you mad with intrigue: Sandor and Sansa have been in a relationship for about five months now.”

Brienne blinked. “What?”

“Ha! I knew that would get your interest. Here, I’ll tell you all about it while you prep for morning rounds.”

\--------

She phoned him the second she had time off. Half a sandwich on one hand, her phone on the other. 

“You’re back.”

“You’re not.”

She could picture his wince as clear as if he had been in front of her. 

“I didn’t want to- I just felt that-” 

Brienne interrupted him. “Was it because of what happened with Cersei?”

Brienne had received his call in the middle of a surgery; a cerebral aneurysm clipping which had successfully drained her of the day’s energy. She had returned his call later that night. He had been drunk, slurring nonsense and making Brienne nervous as he threatened to either kill his sister or his father. 

Between sobs and hiccups, Jaime had managed to inform Brienne of Cersei’s plan to move back to the Westerlands and of taking the children back with her. 

Never had Brienne ever found herself with the impulse to cradle someone, to sooth and hug them until they calmed down. She had stayed on the phone, whispering reassuring words and sharing nonsensical stories (most of them made up for his amusement) with him until he had calmed down and had been able to respond to her inquires. 

The last thing he had uttered during that dreadful phone call had been the fact he missed her and wished he could kiss her again. Brienne had not known how to respond and had found herself grateful of the fact that Jaime had still been drunk enough to both hang up after his confession and not remember it the next morning, when he had called her to apologize and to further explain the situation. 

“No! At least, I don’t think it was,” Jaime groaned and Brienne could hear the rustle of sheets as he got up from his bed. “No one but you and Tyrion know about Myrcella, and we both know I can decently put on a ‘everything’s normal’ facade at work.”

“Yes, Margaery didn’t mention you acting odder than usual.”

“Glad to know your friends are observant.”

“Don’t diverge. Why didn’t you tell me?” She tried but eventually failed at keeping the hurt from her voice. She sounded silly to her own ears, but couldn’t help feeling a sense of betrayal, of deceit. 

His breathing was the only thing Brienne heard for a couple of seconds before he answered back. “I don’t know. I got angry at Stoneheart and at everyone. Going back each night after that day has been excruciating. When we talked,” he paused, “when we talked none of it mattered. For a glorious stolen moment; Stoneheart, Payne, Myrcella, Cersei, Tyrion, they fucking didn’t matter.”

“Jaime…” she warned. 

“I found I couldn’t ruin that. If I didn't tell you. It wasn’t real.”

“You can’t use our relationship as an escape from reality.”

Wait, why did she sound insulted? What had he said?

“Brienne, I just meant-”

“Your reality is crumbling, and you’re dragging me along with it. Or well, I have voluntarily trod alongside you. We can’t use each other as a means to escape.”

“Don’t you dare say that our friendship is an escapising. You fucking well know it isn’t." He spat, making Brienne raise her eyebrows in wonderment. He sounded angry, but above all, he sounded honest. She had hit a nerve. 

"I’ve been in agony these last few weeks because I found myself being witness to the derailing of my life without having the power to stop it! My life has been a mess, has become a sickening joke, but you- our friendship is one of the last real things I have left. And gods forgive me but in the midst of the chaos which sprung up, the only thing I found myself wanting was you. Your smile, your eyes, your ears, your calming presence beside me, reminding me that not everything is as dramatic as my mind makes it out to be. I found myself wanting my best friend with me, but she was a thousand miles away drowning in sand and hot weather!” The sincerity and rawness in his voice slowly got replaced with a dramatic and playful tone which allowed Brienne the opportunity to escape from having to confront the deeper meaning behind his words. 

She couldn’t help it, she chuckled; a strained and almost saddened little laugh, but a laugh nevertheless. Gods, she had missed him too. So fucking much. 

“You can’t stay on nights, Jaime.” She answered back, the one statement she could will her mind to both think and say. 

Jaime sighed, but Brienne could hear the small smile her response had probably managed to bring on his face. 

“Stoneheart was very firm about her decision. I suspect Aemon and Hunt are behind this shit.”

“You can’t stay on nights. Third-years don’t normally assist during night shifts.” She confessed, scrunching up her face she realized she had voiced her selfish complaints aloud. 

“I don’t give a fuck about protocol, I’ll just ask for you anyway; have done so in the past, will do again.”

Brienne ignored her own blush and the fluttering feeling his sincerity brought within her. 

“You don’t have the power.”

“You still doubt me? Even after all this time?”

“You? Never. Stoneheart? I’ve only met her  _ once _ , when you casually let it slip you had once made out with a resident.”

“She had no idea whom I was talking about.”

“I got as red as your bloody family’s traditional color.”

Jaime’s laugh was full and glorious, and it warmed Brienne in a way which should have made her more uncomfortable, but somehow didn’t. 

She hung up with a grin of her own after a few more minutes of mindless teasing and serious debating. Looking out the floor’s window at the graying city beneath the smoke and contamination fumes, she could barely see the sea, but somehow Brienne felt home. 

\---------------

Stoneheart had been instituted as King’s Landing General Hospital’s general chief right at the start of Brienne’s second year, just a little over a year ago. 

The woman carried a solid reputation of being the finest neurosurgeon around, specializing in spinal surgery. She was also known to be ruthless and unyielding. 

Brienne had never had a proper audience with the woman. As a resident she was set to answer to the head of the residency program; a plump and much shorter man with an easy smile but quick temper who went by Doctor Waters. She had only ever seen the woman on that particular day when she had been arguing with Jaime as he had ended his shift and had accompanied her for a cup of morning coffee.

As she waited, Brienne sipped her mug; a scene so reminiscent of that fateful day when Stark had called her inside her office in order to assign her to Jaime, the thought almost made Brienne snort out her beverage. 

“Doctor Tarth?”

Brienne’s head snapped towards where her name had been called; a strand of blond, brittle hair escaping the tight knot she had attempted to style that morning. 

“You can come in.”

Stoneheart sat at her desk; straight and poise, movements slow and precise. She blinked once, twice, before moving her head from her screen over to where Brienne stood. Six foot, three inches and standing as tall as she could make herself, almost blocking out the entire light in the room. She had a point to make, confidence to fake and hopefully a reputation to salvage.

“Sit.” The surgeon hissed, voice cold and as sharp as steel.

Brienne obliged the woman’s command, taking a seat as she waited for the Director’s prompt.

“You’re here because of the Kingslayer?”

So many months without hearing someone call him by the dreaded nickname had gone by, the sudden use of it made Brienne recoil. “Doctor Lannister is a good surgeon, doctor Stoneheart. He has been cleared to work by the NIH not once but twice, and has been newly reviewed by the Surgical Board as satisfactory. He deserves the proper use of his title, same as any of us.”

The woman sneered, and Brienne swore she could almost hear her  _ hiss _ . 

“The man is a ticking bomb. He arrived here under supervision, and without many favorable recommendations. Temper tantrums, misdemeanors, insubordinations, bribery. The list goes on. He doesn’t have a good enough reputation to work the dayshift at KLG. He has become a broken, old and dishonored surgeon. He has nothing to offer the dayshift but pains and troubles.”

The woman’s voice was monotonous, flat, dull. It made Brienne shiver. 

“Doctor Lannister is many things, doctor; broken is the least of them all. It’s true his hand suffered a grave injury, but he has managed to regain enough strength and skill for it to be of use again. Sure, he lost velocity and elegance, but he’s still a better surgeon than most I’ve ever known, even those younger than him. As for claiming him to be dishonorable... I’ve never met a more virtuous or more honorable surgeon. He doesn’t lie, he doesn’t unnecessarily boast, or unjustly reprimand. He is good at what he does and he knows it; just as you know it and just as I do too.”

“You vouch for his respectability then?”

The question caught Brienne off guard, but she tried to not let it show. “Yes. I've known him for a little more than two years now. I know he can be a pain, and arrogant and mulishly stubborn at times; but he has never given me cause to doubt his judgment or his teachings. He gives everyone a chance to prove themselves, no matter your rank.”

She would have expected some kind of reaction from the woman, but got nothing out of her. Her eyes, gray and sullen, possessing a stare which would make even the most composed man squirm under its detached nature. 

“You sound infatuated with the man.”

The woman’s voice remained flat. 

“No,” Brienne hoped she sounded convincing enough, for she herself had no clue as to what her own feelings towards Jaime were. “I am a friend, a colleague, an admirer of his work and one who has prided herself in always staying firmly by what she believes to be right. I believe Jaime Lannister being moved to days is what is right, both for him and for the institution.”

Brienne would forever remember the slight curve of Stoneheart’s lips as the Chief dismissed her from her office with the promise of looking into doctor Lannister’s case. 

\-------------

Brienne just hoped he wouldn’t kill her. Which was a very accurate possibility. Both of them were stubborn, his character and her own so alike when it came to the defence of their work.  _ She _ would have killed him (had indeed beaten him almost bloody once, when he had tried defending a grade she had been given by doctor Caron during her first year) if he had pulled a stunt like the one Brienne had dared to accomplish. 

Jaime deserved the move. If he wasn’t going to fight for it, then she would. 

She fidgeted with her stethoscope as she finished receiving a patient from one of the new first-years; a redheaded brat who never stopped bragging about having done his internship at the Citadel. 

“But why didn’t you continue the antibiotic?”

The young man tried to dissuade her with what Brienne assumed to be a swoon-worthy grin. Brienne didn’t even grant him a blink of recognition, but did raise her eyebrows in a way so reminiscent of Jaime’s own taunt she felt glad no one else was around to see it. 

“Because…”

Brienne groaned, grabbing the patient’s chart from the conceited first-year’s hands and scribbling down the antibiotic the poor man should continue on for at least two more days. 

“Don’t change treatments if you aren’t sure about them; always check in with your superior, be it a second-year or with me, before pulling a stunt like this.”

It was going to be a long shift, same as it had been ever since Jon and Sansa had been shuffled around to a different shift. Sandor still hovered around her hours, but being a fourth year meant he was rarely seen mingling with those inferior to his rank. He had always tolerated Brienne and thus would still accept to scrub in with her, but he would not go near her two first-years, no matter how much Brienne pleaded.

Her phone had remained silent throughout most of the day, which told Brienne much. Jaime would have normally already pestered her with calls or texts about their shift and what their dinner would be. 

It was ten minutes before his shift was set to begin and still, he gave no signs of life. 

“Tarth,” her other first-year -a shy, but sharp boy from the North- called out, “who’s on call tonight?”

Brienne finished jotting down her last change in treatment for Mr. Hill and his perforated appendix, before answering the question with the least emotion she could emate. “Lannister and Payne. One will stay out here on the floor, making the night rounds; the other usually stays in charge of any emergency surgeries which arrive through the ER.”

“Jaime Lannister? The Kingslayer?” The northerner, Reed, inquired. 

Brienne’s skin prickled, her lips thinning as she withheld her defence. 

“ _ Doctor _ Lannister will probably be in charge of the OR tonight. Payne mostly likes to leave him be.”

“I thought he had been moved to days?” The redhead supplied, his trademark grin present on his face; a voice smooth and rich and intent on making Brienne squirm. She didn’t. 

“He will be.”

“Oh so sure you sound, resident.” Brienne was quick to turn as she heard his voice, the sheer velocity of her movement making her body almost collide with his. 

“Doctor Lannister-”

His green eyes shined with unmeasured mirth, the lines around them crinkling with delight. His lips were slightly turned upwards in an attempt to hide an amused grin, as his hands calmly rested over her biceps as he grabbed on to her to try and steady her quick turn. 

“Thank you.” He mouthed, quick and with a sincerity radiating from his green eyes which made Brienne’s head spin and her heart speed up. His hands on her arms burned her and his sudden proximity made her quiver with an anticipation she had never experienced before. It should have scared her. It didn’t. 

So caught up in contemplating and planning her defense for the better part of the day, Brienne took notice she had failed to come up with a proper response for the acceptance and gratitude he seemed to be giving her. 

“So, what’ve we got tonight? Flying solo today. Payne bailed out on me last minute, the sullen bastard he is. So come on you two, do your best to impress me and Brienne here.” He chuckled as he threw his arms over her shoulder in a familiar gesture which served to make Brienne turn a slight shade of pink. “I’m sure you won’t be able to.” He finished off with a cat like grin which made Brienne’s insides quiver and her face flame with both annoyance and embarrassment. 

Her two first-years stood up straight when Jaime addressed them. Brienne suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at their rehearsed mummers show. 

“I hear it doesn't take much to impress a man like you, doctor.” The redhead spat out, making Jaime tense up and Brienne glare at him. 

“What’s your name?” He called, his arm losing its fickle hold on her. 

“Bear, Arthur Bear.”

“Doctor Bear, let me make one thing clear. There are no men like me, there’s only me. And I’m very,  _ very _ hard to impress; even harder to earn respect from. Do your best, and if you’re lucky I’ll let you stand in and watch while Brienne here executes a perfect procedure.”

“Doctor…” Brienne held out her hand, gently tugging on his arm; the last thing she needed was for one of her residents to start giving her unnecessary trouble. The were both asses, but they were mostly harmless. They were first-years with too much energy and not enough knowledge. 

“Let’s bloody start the rounds before a gunshot wound arrives.” He fixed his eyes on hers, his gaze harboring something in them Brienne had never taken notice of before. It was a gentle caress mixed in with an anger and something akin to protectiveness. She knew what Margaery would call it, she knew Sanasa would have probably teared up because of it, and knew Renly would probably slap her when she told him about it. Brienne simply granted him a nod, trying to convey in her simple gesture the fact that whatever it was he was feeling, she most likely felt it too. 

\------------

“How do you feel?” She asked him as she handed him a fresh cup of coffee, her eyes glossed over from actually having slept more than three hours while on shift. Bear and Reed aside, being a third-year was proving to be rewarding. 

“Like a vampire, thanks. I can’t get used to seeing the halls filled with light. Or seeing Hunt still trailing after you like a kicked pup. He never stopped, then? I thought you had been joking about that.”

Brienne cringed upon hearing Hyle’s name. His groveling had gotten better as time had gone by, but he still insisted on trying to build some sort of friendship with her. 

“Since when do I joke?”

“Good point.” He took a generous sip, sighing in contempt as he took in the floor around him, acutely aware of Brienne’s steady presence next to him. 

“You’re stuck with me for the next month, by the way.”

At that Brienne did raise her eyebrows, still not turning towards him, enjoying the feeling of getting to watch first and second-years running around the floor; interns trailing behind them in a desperate attempt to learn something from their superiors. She would eventually go and join in the chaos, but it was not everyday she was granted the opportunity to simply observe the wonderful pandemonium which was the surgical floor at KLG. She never thought she could ever fall in love with it even more than she already had. She did. The thought brought a pleasing smile to her face. 

“Just a month?”

“Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“I will not answer that.”

Both laughed and sipped their beverages, glad to simply enjoy each other’s company in the brief moments of tranquility their lives allowed. 

\-------------

“Fuck!”

Jaime put his drink down, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he took in Brienne’s paling face. “You know, I just realized you never used to swear before. Back at Harrenhal you never even insulted people. Now you give  _ me _ a run for my money. Was I really that much of a bad influence on you? And just what exactly have you seen? You look as if you’ve seen a bloody ghost.”

Brienne glared at him, but took another generous sip from her drink; a soft ale he had conned her into ordering. 

“Brienne?”

They were out celebrating her first Whipple procedure as a primary (courtesy of Dr. Meribald), and the fact that Jaime had finally managed to talk to Myrcella for a couple of minutes without the girl shutting him out. It had been a good week, and Jaime had claimed the need for celebration; much to Brienne’s annoyance. 

“I  _ have _ seen a bloody ghost.”

Jaime choked, “What?”

Brienne cursed again, as the man who had entered the Kneeling Knight bar made eye contact with her, eyes going wide in recognition. 

“Please don’t, please don’t,” she chanted. Upon realizing the man had changed his initial course and was now heading towards where she and Jaime were sitting, she turned to her friend. “Please don’t say or do anything stupid.”

Jaime frowned, “Fine, now I feel both curious and insulted.”

“Brienne Tarth!”

A voice, a  _ male _ voice came from behind Jaime. 

“Ron Connigton.” Brienned gritted out. 

“Jeez, I haven’t seen you since we graduated from Morningstar Prep.”

Jaime turned, a raised eyebrow in both curiosity and amusement. Brienne seldom talked about her Prep school days, always claiming them not being worthy of reminiscing. The few snippets she had ever offered up to Jaime having been her misplaced crush on Renly, and the fact that she had been on the school’s fencing team. 

“What has brought you to KL? Never thought you’d ever leave the Stormlands.”

Jaime tried, but couldn’t help but take notice of the slight flinch she gave as the redheaded young man moved in to embrace her as he would have an old friend. 

“I’m doing my surgical residency over at KLG,” she volunteered, her voice tight and forced. “This here is doctor Lannister, he-”

“Jaime Lannister,” he started, handing out his left hand, “Brienne’s partner.” He ignored the soft voice inside his head screaming at him to stop, a voice which sounded ridiculously like Brienne’s whenever she snapped at him. 

Brienne went red, her blue eyes widening in shock before glaring at him. Jaime could practically read her thoughts as he threw her a salacious wink. 

_ I told you to not say anything stupid.  _

“So funny running into you-”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” She called out, her feet hitting Jaime’s shin from under the table. 

Jaime groaned and threw her a glare of his own. 

“He’s a friend, and a surgeon at KLG.”

Jaime fumbled out an apology, returning her kick with less intensity than he would have liked. Brienne gritted a couple of more answers as the redhead fired question after question at them. Jaime subjected himself to the role of observer, eager to learn more on the subject of Brienne’s adolescence and her odd reaction towards her old classmate. 

Brienne counted to ten and back inside her mind, a steady train of thought which allowed her to focus on answering inquiries and to not divert her thoughts to those of summernight tears and broken hearts. It also helped her ignore the constant and almost invasive scrutiny she found herself under Jaime’s intense observing glance. 

Ron behaved with a controlled decency and propriety which exhausted Brienne. He hadn’t been a friend of hers, he had barely been an acquaintance. They had shared two classes in three years and a blind date gone sour when they had each been fifteen. Brienne hadn’t forgotten his sneer nor his insults. 

Adolescence made everything feel grander and more intense, but the flightness of one’s undeveloped brain did not excuse one of having been a complete ass. Ron had been an ass, and it bothered Brienne the man could blatantly ignore the fact. 

At least Hyle had tried to apologize -and still continued to do so.

Jaime played his part of  _ friend _ with well practiced ease; he made one or two sly comments, all decent, all controlled, all making Brienne feel even more nauseated. 

It was one of the many things she relished of her relationship with Jaime; the open ended agreement between the two, to never retrieve to fake pleasantries. They had always been honest with each other. 

As soon as Brienne could, she found an excuse and left the table with a hurried gait which Jaime took notice of; same as he had taken notice of her entire stiff and uncomfortable posture and manner throughout the entire brief exchange. 

Ron Connington was young, same as Brienne, but his decent working hours and cheery life style made him look even younger than his friend. He seemed bright, with his eyes harboring a spark which Jaime blamed on both youth and endless possibility. He looked proud and exactly like every twenty-six year old should look like when the world is their domain and life has not yet dealt them any hard blows. Not the handsomest, not the richest, not the smartest; Ron Connigton was just another eager young adult hoping for a shot at a decent life. Jaime shouldn’t have felt threatened by such a simple mind, but the sheer reminder of his own decaying, shaded and smeared life made him feel an uneasiness he hadn’t felt before. 

Jaime’s misplaced jealousy lasted a whole five seconds before the man spoke without any given prompt. 

“You would have thought age would have treated her kinder. She looks even more mannish than she did at fifteen.”

Jaime swallowed down his drink with a feigned ease Brienne would have been proud of. 

“I would have loved to have known her at that age. If not for the fact that I would have been almost thirty and still an arrogant ass. Please tell me she’s always been the stubborn mule she is now.”

Ron quirked a red eyebrow with sudden interest in the older man  _ -much _ older, he took notice of. 

“Yes. Same stubborn, homely, awkward Brienne she’s always been. Gotta say though, there hadn’t been that much muscle back then. Good riddance too, for I would have never forgiven Clyde for having set me up with her if apart from ugly she had looked more ripped than I had been.”

_ Wait, what? _

“What do you mean?”

“Gotta say though, I must admire the man who takes  _ The Beauty  _ on. Man’s gotta have balls to tolerate fucking that. She’s what now? Over six feet? Crooked nose and thick features. Although, maybe her cunt isn’t as freakish as the rest of her-”

Ron’s nose cracked, the sound echoing inside Jaime’s ears; his right hand throbbing in a way it hadn’t in years. Jaime cursed alongside the redhead, each cradling their injured body part. 

“What the actual  _ fuck _ ?”

“Show her some fucking respect. Her name's Brienne, got it? And you will call her that in my presence and anywhere else, you sniveling rat.”

Ron continued cursing as he stole Jaime’s napkin from under him, firmly pressing it on to his bleeding nose in order to try and control the hemorrhage. 

“If you broke this, I swear I’ll sue.”

_ Arrogant cunt.  _

“It’s not broken.” Jaime hissed. “But I will do more than break your fucking nose if you don’t leave before she gets back.”

If he could have done so, Ron would have snorted. He merely flipped Jaime off; hauling his bleeding body away, still grumbling curses under his breath all the way until he disappeared behind the bar’s entrance doors. 

Feeling a sense of triumph he did not feel he deserved, Jaime sipped his drink, gesturing to the bartender for another napkin.

Brienne would have never found out about his little bravado act if not for the constant twitching of his right wrist. 

“Idiot.” She spat, blue eyes far more concerned than angered. 

“Excuse me for trying to defend your honor!”

She glared at him as she cradled his right hand between her own, blue eyes snapping back to his reddened knuckles. 

“I don’t know whether to feel angered or insulted.”

“Isn’t there a third option? The guy was out of line, he should have seen it coming.”

“Red Connington is as harmless as Hyle Hunt, or even more so. We went on a date  _ -once _ , a lifetime ago. He insulted me no worse than you ever did.”

“Yes, but I like to believe I’m no longer an ass to you -most of the time.” His green eyes searched hers, as if he truly doubted her regard of him. She pursed her lips in the simplest, yet purest of smiles. “I believe him to only have gotten worse in his old age.” He felt the need to add. 

At that Brienne snickered, her eyes still on his early bruising hand, her fingers running soft, soothing patterns against his knuckles. Jaime’s breath hitched upon taking notice of her gentle touch and the thrills even the barest of contact made him feel. 

Gods, she was going to end up killing him. She needed to stop. 

Brienne took notice of his sudden paralytic state. Her blue eyes shot up in question, fixing upon his green stare. Eyes wide and pupils dilated, mouth hanging slightly open as a breath slowly escaped him. Brienne felt herself getting dizzy and not from the soft alcohol consumption. 

“Why is every time I find out about a secret you’ve kept from me, they are somehow related to a romantic past I know not of.”

“Romantic? Now I know you’ve had enough to drink.” She tried to change the subject. 

“Tell me more.” He prompted; because there was more, Jaime could see it. He saw it in the way she scoffed and evaded his eyes as she gently released his hand. 

He had told her everything about Cersei, about his failed attempt to woo Malara during Prep school. She knew everything about his failed romantic liaisons.

“Jaime, there’s really not much to-”

She was embarrassed. Jaime suppressed a grin, for he knew such act would not be taken lightly by the young woman. But he did find it amusing, the fact she felt embarrassed about whatever had or hadn’t occurred during her childhood. He wasn’t interested in daunting tales of escapades and passions. He just wanted her truth, whichever it may be. 

“This from the girl who dreamt of knights and maidens? Of intergalactic battles for the human race? No, there must be something I am missing, something more than having been shot down by Renly fucking Baratheon.”

Brienne could feel her skin getting warm. There truly wasn’t much to tell. She had always been big and awkward and less than pretty. Shy by nature and observant by hobby had made her a very difficult person to get to know. Once she had realized this, at the tender age of sixteen, she had stopped fancying herself the dating kind of girl. Her crush on Renly Baratheon had come and gone as just that; a silly school girl crush which she had always known would never become more than misplaced infatuation. 

“I’ve had three dates in my life. As in, proper dates and not odd attempts at gaining my favor. The first boy never even showed up; he had been my neighbor’s cousin who had come to Tarth for a week’s vacation during one summer. He somehow managed to get sick with Greyscale during almost his entire stay. I never saw him after our first meeting,  _ ever _ . 

The second was Connigton. A set up by mutual friends right before we started prep school. He laughed in my face when he saw me; ceremoniously threw a red rose at my feet and claimed that it would be all I would ever get from him. I cried myself to sleep that night and vowed to never do so again. The third was at the start of University. An intern had thought me older and so had dared to ask me out to dinner. He had been sweet, if not a bit overbearing. I had sworn off dating by then, but he had a kind smile and he had been the first to ever directly ask me; so I agreed. We never made it to the date. He had gotten wind of my competing in a boxing match where I successfully knocked my opponent down during the fourth round.”

“You knocked out a man, didn’t you?”

Brienne gave him a small but proud smile, one which filled Jaime with a warmth he found he desperately needed in order to eradicate the bitterness which had started to build within him upon hearing her stories. 

“He complained about my age and my height and strength and basically called me a ‘giant freak of nature’; at least I think those had been his words. By the time he had appeared in my life I had already built up several walls and filtering systems-”

“You remember though; because as much as you’ve always claimed to not get bothered by the sneers and the comments -you told me so once; you  _ do _ remember. You remember and carry them -gods-  _ have _ been carrying each and every one of those comments, suggestions, insults, with you for years - _ years, _ Brienne.”

“They’re no worse than someone unjustly calling you Kingslayer.”

“People don’t deserve your kindness, you know. And if you don’t punch them, I will gladly do so in your steed.”

“But I have punched them, I’ve told you.” 

“You got my back and I’ve got yours.” He raised his drink towards her, using his still aching right hand. 

Brienne stared at him, tried to desperately calm her beating heart and fluttering stomach. She cursed his soft and kind eyes, raising her own glass in mirror to his own. 

\-------------

“Wait, so Aemon was  _ worse _ than Clegane?”

Brienne chuckled as she finished reviewing her resident’s note. “Clegane is not bad. He’s gruff, but he’s probably the fairest of all the superiors I’ve had. Here, you missed describing the exterior habitus. Aemon, to quote an attending, was an ‘arrogant little cunt’.”

The half smirk which came on her face was instantaneous, and a common occurence whenever her thoughts drifted towards Jaime nowadays. Her younger residents had been quick to notice and quick to learn to ignore. 

“That’s rich, coming from Lannister.”

“Yes, I told him so. Jaime’s going to grill you on proper fluid resuscitation if you don’t change this last bit here.”

“You called him Jaime again.”

“It’s nearing four am, Reed; I can call him whatever I bloody like. Fix this and then print it out, good job.” She patted Reed on the back as she stood from her chair. Four months and both first-years were coming along nicely, better than she had originally expected. Of course Sandor didn’t think either were worth his time, but he now refrained from insulting them to their faces; a feat which Brienne knew to be Sansa’s influence on him. Still, after two years of dodging and avoiding part of her shift, she was glad to have finally found some balance with her colleagues; even if she did find herself missing Jon -especially on the quieter nights. 

Whom she found herself missing the most though, was Jaime. His annoying persistence on being allowed to work the ER, his continuous questioning, and the never ending challenge he embodied. 

He had brought life to the dread of the night shift. 

Her phone dinged as she made her rounds, successfully driving her mind back to her present task. 

_ ‘why is it i always find myself awake at this hour during days like today?’ _

Brienne typed her answer as she stopped in front of one of her morning patients. 

_ ‘Old habits die hard, old man.’ _

_ ‘take that BACK’ _

_ ‘Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.  _ Don’t _ forget my coffee.’ _

Her phone rang, loud and clear in the silence of the hall. Brienne cursed and cursed again once she realized the sound had woken her patient up. 

“I’m going on my rounds. Make it quick.”

“Are you always so demanding?”

“You tell me.”

“Yes, you usually are. At least with me. You’re crazy if you think I’m going back to bed now. I would only be getting back to sleep right before I would need to get up again. Do you know what that kind of anticipation does to a man?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Care to share, resident?” He teased. 

Brienne blushed as she grabbed the now awake man's charts from the foot of his bed. She had scrubbed in on the man’s surgery during the previous morning: a gunshot wound to the abdomen which had gone through and through with only a slight graze to the stomach which hadn’t needed repair. The procedure had been clean and uneventful. But the man stared straight on, as if he were still high on narcotics; with a glossy gaze and a sweating forehead. 

“No. Hey, remember yesterday’s gunshot wound? The guy from the Riverlands?”

“Biter? Yeah, a gang member. Why?”

Brienne shook her head, forgetting he couldn’t see her.

Jaime didn’t need to be able to gaze upon her to know she had dismissed her previous line of inquiry. 

“Anyway, I called because there is an actual reason for my insomnia this time around.”

Still weary of her patient, Brienne prompted Jaime to continue with her silence. She skimmed over the charts as she listened to Jaime inform her of his call with Myrcella during the previous afternoon. How the girl had finally voiced her concerns and how she had actually apologized for her aloof and judgmental behavior, which had prompted Jaime to feel horrible and had ended up with him groveling at his daughter’s feet. 

She couldn’t find her post-op notes. 

“She’s agreed to see me. Over the summer holidays. She and Tommen miss the city and Tyrion has somehow convinced Cersei to let them stay with him in his city apartment.”

She could imagine the smile on his face, luminescent with pride and overwhelming joy; his green eyes bright and beautiful. Brienne’s own smile grew wide as she heard him speak, her ears ringing with the familiar buzz of exhilarating joy she felt whenever he mentioned progress having been made with his daughter. 

“That’s-”

Her phone flew from her hands as the air got knocked out from her lugs, the blow having landed right between her shoulder blades, sending her crippling to her knees; both hands reaching out in order to stop herself from falling flat on her face. 

“Wha-”

Another blow which came from her right side made her wheeze out, her mind trying desperately to grasp on to her surroundings and whatever was beating her to the ground. 

She caught a quick glance of hospital green zooming on her left and it was enough to allow Brienne to defend herself against the next blow. 

She caught his foot with her arms, a growl coming from within her which had the patient’s eyes going wide with wonderment and something Brienne could only catalogue as unhinged lust. 

She felt her stomach churn in disgust before giving the man a kick of her own. 

The fight went on for a few seconds, Brienne frantically trying to locate her phone, praying the commotion would bring someone in to help. 

She got three good punches in before her world went black with blinding pain. 

She had managed to send him flat on his back with her last kick, when a sudden click coming from outside the hall’s door had managed to distract Brienne just enough for the crazed man to jump from behind and tackle her down to the floor. She never saw the sharp and silver blade, she only felt the burning pain of the fine cutting edge of the scalpel on her cheek as she screamed, loud and unrestrained. 

She blacked out after; the last thing her eyes had taken in being the crazed look of satisfaction and fascination in her attacker’s eyes, accompanied by the most fowlest of grins Brienne had ever witnessed. 

\----------

“Let me see her!” He called out, his voice desperate, almost breaking. 

“She’s asleep, Lannister.”

“Seven hells, Meribald, let me through. I need to see her.”

Doctor Meribald stopped a raging Jaime with the steadiest of hands, gently pressing them on Jaime’s chest. Jaime’s eyes followed the steady movement before snapping back up to meet with the older surgeon’s calm eyes. Meribald’s easiness made Jaime’s skin prickle with annoyance and anxiety. The world around him seemed to move at a different pace than he wanted; everything seemed slower, duller. Jaime’s head spun at a thousand miles an hour, thoughts and memories getting jumbled and mixed inside his brain. He  _ needed _ to see her. 

“In due time…”

Jaime scoffed and turned away from Meribald’s attempt at comfort. The older surgeon hadn’t heard the scream - _ no one  _ had heard her scream the way Jaime had. No one had been _ there _ to hear when the first punch had knocked the wind right out of her, her phone flying off, leaving Jaime desperately calling out to her and only receiving grunts and huffs in response. He had never felt so impotent in his life. 

The memory of her last scream chilled Jaime to the bone.

He had arrived at the hospital in record time; with his phone still clutched in his hand, the line still open and using it to overhear the nurses and Night’s Watch Agents hovering over Brienne and her attacker. He had managed to get past a rookie Agent and into the hall where her blood still stained the floor and her phone still rested against the trash bin. Raging about security and threatening to sue the Institute, Agents had managed to haul Jaime to a near examination room, where someone had then proceeded to inform him of Brienne’s current status and remind him he was an Institution employee and would not help anyone if he continued to breech protocols and regulations. 

Jaime had scoffed, but had accepted the Agents’ suggestions and reports. 

Brienne had gone under emergency surgery, her cheek having been sliced with recklessness. They would inform him when she got assigned a room. 

“She’s still asleep, Lannister. Let her rest, the gods know she’s more than earned it.”

“I don’t know what you think I plan on doing, or causing. But that woman in there is the most important person in my life, you understand? I heard the woman I- I heard her  _ scream _ ; heard her fight and struggle for her life.” Jaime took in a breath as he felt his voice wavering. 

“Please,” he begged, “let me in.”

Meribald sighed, his calm gaze shifting into one of comprehension. 

“Stoneheart will have your head if you miss a day.”

“Stoneheart can go fuck herself.” Jaime spat. “I just need to see her.”

Following Meribald’s consentment nod, Jaime moved pass the older man, forgetting his courtesies in his moment of grief. 

She looked pale, even more so than usual. Her cheek was bandaged up, with only a faint tint of dried blood which could be seen through the layers of gauze. She looked exactly as he had last seen her; broad, muscular, magnificent. And yet she looked nothing like the Brienne he had grown to care for. 

“Gods, you almost killed me with that scream.” He found himself whispering as he took a seat beside her bed. 

“You stubborn, bloody cow. You should have called for help the second you were down,” he hid his face behind his hands, resting his eyes for the first time since he had last heard her answer him back. 

“You would have saved us both a lot of trouble.”

She didn’t stir; her face still asleep, still pale, still alive. 

With a tentative hand, Jaime brushed a couple of strands of loose hair from her face, away from her bandaged cheek. He suddenly found himself unable to stop, and continued to lightly brush the gauze with the tips of his fingers, slowly making his way across her face, over her nose, towards her eyelids, her forehead, her other cheek. She was warm under his touch; warm and  _ alive _ . He had needed tangible evidence of her survival more than he had needed air. 

With a bravery which only made itself present in the face of the possibility of sudden death, Jaime leaned his face in towards her own. He rested his forehead on hers with the barest of pressure, with his right hand still lovingly resting on her cheek, gently caressing her face; an embrace he had never allowed himself to give to her.

“I would have never forgiven myself if I’d lost you, you hear me?”

With his last words, Brienne finally began to stir. Her head softly leaned into his warm touch, followed by her eyes scrunching in what Jaime knew to be pain. 

“Gods!” He exclaimed, moving in to plant a quick kiss on her forehead; never letting go of her face. He couldn’t cease from touching her, couldn’t let her out of his reach. He needed to feel her, to see her, to-

“Jaime?” Her voice was hoarse and dry, but his name falling from her lips sounded better than the sweetest of melodies. 

“You idiot, stubborn, mule of a woman.” He kissed her forehead again. “Don’t you dare go around beating the shit out of criminals without me present ever again.”

“Seven hells, it fucking hurts!” Her eyes closed as she spoke; one of her hands coming over to gently cradle his own, still softly caressing her cheek. For a second Jaime grew scared she would reject the contact, but was gladly rewarded with a soft caress of her own as she allowed herself to sink into his warmth. 

“I know,” he kissed her again; an impulse he couldn’t control. “I’ll tell Meribald.” He whispered over her forehead before returning his gaze to level with her own, waiting until she opened her dulled but still oh-so blue eyes at him. “But first, you promise to never go gallanting away on your own.”

“Jaime?” She questioned, her mind still more than fuzzy from waking up after hours under the influence of heavy narcotics. 

“Promise me, Brienne. Or else I swear I’ll chain you up to the hospital’s basement.”

Her scoff was music to his ears, and the sound of it made Jaime grin for the first time that morning, and even managed to get his eyes welled up with unshed tears. 

“Brienne…” He started, but suddenly found himself unable to find the words to express the utter relief he felt overcome him. 

Her eyes finally cleared enough for her to fully look at him. Close enough that their breaths mixed; eyes green and filled with both worry and relief, a desperate quality about them which managed to fill Brienne with a warmth she currently felt in dire need of. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. Somehow she understood, and somehow she just knew that whatever it was they both currently felt could not be properly translated into words. 

“Seven hells woman, never do that again.”

Her eyes welled with unshed tears she had no control over. Her tender heart ached from the overwhelming sensation of having woken up to the greenest, kindest, most beautiful eyes she had ever known. 

Without warning or premeditation, Jaime leaned down to plant a kiss to her lips; a quick and grateful gesture which had probably meant to end as quickly as it had begun, but which Brienne refused to terminate. The hand which had been cradling his own, moved behind his neck, keeping Jaime’s face right where it was. He didn’t complain and moved to kiss her again, his lips crashing on hers with a gentle force which Brienne more than welcomed. 

Both had tears rolling down their faces, but neither cared as they languidly shared a kiss in which both tried to express the thousand unvoiced thoughts and feelings running through their minds.

_ ‘Thank the gods you’re fine.’ _

_ ‘All I wanted was you.’ _

_ ‘I can’t lose you, not you.’ _

_ ‘All I could think about was you.’ _

_ ‘I love you.’ _

_ ‘I love you.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story regardig this chapter. The first half was written during the days I traveled to present my residency exam, while the second half was written after. I still don't know how I managed to do that.


	9. wait for me? i will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne deals with her emotions. Jaime deals with his. Everyone calls them out on it, but they refuse to believe it. 
> 
> Or: Just when things are going to finally move forward, anxiety and life strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first: thank you beautiful people, for reading, leaving comments and giving kudos. 
> 
> Second: this is the longest chapter in the story, it was originally even longer but I cut it in two because my brain ran away with this one. 
> 
> Third: this one emotionally drained me when I wrote it. 
> 
> As always, all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Chapter title from Wait For Me ii (reprise) from Hadestown.

Brienne was forced to two weeks leave following her discharge from the hospital, merely a day after the attack and subsequent surgery. 

Jaime drove her home, both silent throughout most of the drive, simply enjoying each other’s living presence. Her left hand brushed his right as streets and buildings passed along; a gentle nudge and comfort Brienne gladly welcomed. Jaime gifted her with a soft, half smile every time she dared to apply the gentlest of pressure to their touch. 

He greeted Renly with a curt nod and a tint of red in his cheeks which Brienne had never been fortunate to witness before. 

He promised to text and come see her during the week, nervously fumbling with his now longer hair, tucking it behind his ear as he hovered over the apartment’s threshold. 

Brienne bit her lip, the tug of her still fresh wound making her hiss. His hand flew to her injured cheek in an almost reflex response. Brienne’s breath hitched as she took in the warmth coming from his hand and from his eyes. 

_ ‘Please stop, or I’ll end up drowning in you with no viable way of getting myself out.’ _

“I’ll keep you updated on Biter and on any idiocities Sansa and Sandor get up to. Please remind Margaery you don’t  _ owe _ her anything and rest. Most importantly; don’t hide from me. I’ll be here if you need me.” With that having been said, he stood up on his toes to land a quick kiss on her forehead; the hand which had been resting on her injured cheek softly caressing her exposed skin with such tenderness, tears started gathering behind her closed eyelids. 

Brienne offered him a nod but did not snap her eyes open until she felt the tenderest of brushes against her lips, so soft and so quick, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had imagined the gesture. 

“Be sure to tell him that if he ever hurts you, I’ll leave him with more than just one scar on that pretty face of his.”

Renly’s idle, but well intentioned threat was the only thing which made Brienne believe she had not imagined Jaime’s lips softly caressing her own. 

\-------

By the end of the first week, Brienne finally gathered enough courage to look at her face in the mirror. 

With tremblings hands, and with her eyes firmly set on her reflection, she proceeded to remove the carefully dressed bandages on her cheek (Jaime’s gentle work), diligently watching how her eyes filled with tears as she finally gazed upon the ghastly gash across her face. 

She cried herself to sleep that night, texts from both Jaime and Margaery going unanswered. 

“Call him back. I’m your friend, not your personal messenger.” Renly threw her phone across her bed, startling Brienne awake in the process. 

It wasn’t until Jaime picked up, when Brienne took notice she had forgotten to redress her wound. 

She apologized to Jaime, but proceeded to inform him of what she had finally been able to accomplish. 

“I’m sure it’s bad.” He agreed, voice low and cautious, as if he were explaining a complicated dissection. “I’m sure you’ll have a prominent scar and that everyone will stare.” He waited, but got no response from her. “It also signifies you didn't go down without a good fight, that you fought and  _ survived _ . That scar means you’re bloody well alive and I will always look at it and thank the gods for its existence.”  _ For you.  _

His low and familiar tone of voice made Brienne feel warm, but staring at her reflection and her prominent wound made her feel uneasy. 

“Tell me about Clegane and Stark,” she sniffed as she turned her face away from her reflected image. “Margaery tried to tell me the story, but she never got past the locker rooms.”

Jaime could tell she was deflecting, trying to divert and change the subject into a neutral one -a  _ safe _ one. He granted her the boon, if only because he couldn’t see her or reach out to her like he felt himself craving to do. 

Brienne listened and slowly regained her lightheartedness, a small tease even managing to escape from her lips as Jaime tried to explain his involvement in defending the relationship between the residents to Stoneheart. 

Not once did either of them mention the fact Sandor and Sansa’s relationship could very well mirror their own. 

No words had been exchanged, no declarations uttered, but a shift had been noted. Jaime would kiss her goodbye, Brienne would cling to his hand as he drove. They would constantly reach for the other. Whether they were watching a movie, or strolling down Flea Bottom; the need to touch, to reassure themselves of the other’s presence by the simplest of touches, had become their new normal. 

Neither had dared to brush the subject, both content enough to relish in the added contact. 

For the first time ever since she had been discharged from the hospital, Brienne felt a pang of worry and dread. She would be back inside the walls of KLG in less than a week, with hawk like eyes gazing over her every move, and every breath. Both would be thrown under the staff's scrutiny and their friends' teasing. The beautiful surgeon and the disfigured resident. They would paint the most ridiculous picture, one which would become hard to ignore. 

Most of all, she came to realize she dreaded the finality of it all. She had grown used the added touches, the comfort, and the warmth which she had allowed during the last few weeks. All of it would vaporize and move on to become part of a wounded past once she returned to King’s Landing General.

She should have never let her guard down, but the intensity and adrenaline of having to fight for your life had made Brienne desperate to cling to life, and the joys and perks it offered. So with a bravery she hadn’t known she possessed, she had kept Jaime close; had allowed her heart to feel that which she had been avoiding for months -possibly years. 

“Biter has not been granted parole, courtesy of my brother,” Jaime informed, his voice now calm and serious. 

“Give him my thanks.”

“You’ll do so yourself. He’s insisting on coming with us this weekend, when we go out to celebrate your successful return to work.”

Brienne remained silent, a reaction Jaime had grown used to receiving whenever he took to inform Brienne about the case against her attacker. 

Brienne was the strongest person Jaime had ever known, but her strained and measured silences served as a reminder of her humanity -of her  _ youth _ . There was a part of her which was still hurting from the memory of such vivid attack. It was the reason Jaime usually avoided bracing the subject without a buffer to ease her into the conversation.

He waited for a couple of more seconds, but didn’t get any response from her; the only sound which Jaime could hear coming through the phone line being her rhythmic breathing. Jaime sighed, knowing he would not be getting anything more from her, not that day.

“Go to sleep, Brienne.” 

“It’s noon, Jaime.” He could almost see her brows furrowing in confusion at his suggestion. 

“Sleep, I’ll talk to you tonight. Or if you can convince Renly to let you out of that apartment for a night, I heard there’s this Ser Duncan convention near the old Sept.” He teased.

Brienne’s face warmed, a small smile gracing her face. 

“Renly’s not my keeper.”

Jaime could see her eye roll and glare as clear as if she were in front of him. “Tell that to him.”

Her chuckle left Jaime feeling warm and content. “Goodbye, Jaime.”

“I’ll see you later, Brienne.”

\--------

The nightmares were the worst of it. Even after almost a month after the attack, the terror of it still haunted Brienne during some nights. She would wake up with a scream, sweat running down her forehead, trembling hands reaching out for her phone, pressing on his name in an almost automatic motion. 

The first time she had woken Jaime up during the middle of the night had made Brienne spent the entire next day at work apologizing. Her groveling had been put to a stop when Jaime had set her aside right before his shift had ended; green eyes filled with a desperation which had made Brienne’s heart leap. With as much honesty as he had managed to conjure up, he had told her she should never have to apologize to him ever again. 

“If I can’t  _ be _ there to hold you, let me at least offer you some kind of comfort.”

His sentence had rendered Brienne speechless, her only response having been a startled nod of understanding. 

A month had passed, and the terros still haunted her -and she still called him every single time she woke up in a sweat and in tears. He always answered. 

A month had passed, and they had still not spoken about whatever had happened to their relationship. Both scared, both happy, both knowing they couldn’t continue their strange arrangement forever. 

“I’m worried about you.”

Renly’s voice brought Brienne from out of her odd trance as she finished her breakfast that morning. Her face harboring a questioning expression. 

“Why? It’s been a month, Renly. I’m fine. It’s just been a bad week at the hospital, and it’s been translating into my dreams, that’s all.” 

“You keep waking up screaming, Brie. I know I’m a heavy sleeper, but even I’m not immune to your screams, not of that kind.” Brienne couldn’t help but uncomfortably shift in her seat. “I know you call Lannister when you wake, which is why I’ve never dared to enter your room.”

“You freak out when your patient’s cry; I highly doubt you would tolerate an unhinged beast.” She was spending way too much time around Jaime is she was using his wry sense of humor to deflect from venturing into a conversation she wasn’t eager to have. 

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“That’s how I look when it happens.”

Renly threw his friend a judging glance, one which was quickly transformed into a softer stare as he continued talking. 

“You’ve not slept well for three nights.”

She averted her gaze towards her coffee mug. It had just been a bad week, Brienne was sure it would eventually pass. “I’ll be fine.”

“Lannister’s a fool if he believes you when you tell him that. And I’ve called Jaime Lannister a lot of things but  _ fool, _ isn’t one of them. Although, judging by how the two of you have been behaving for this past month I rather think the term could indeed apply to him -to  _ you _ , as well.”

She glared, her blue, judgmental eyes following him around their kitchen as he grabbed a mug of his own. Her sudden annoyance did not make her body escape the obvious flushed reaction it gave when being confronted with her fluctuating relationship with Jaime.

“You haven’t spurged any new rumors at KLG, if that’s your worry. Your odd friendship is not news, so most of the staff honestly did not find it odd when Lannister nearly tore down the surgical floor in search of you that night. But those who have been fortunate to catch a glimpse between shifts, or outside the crimson walls of the hospital. Brienne, neither of you is subtle when you think no one is watching.”

No, they weren’t. But nothing had been  _ said _ , nothing had been established or talked about. It was just something that  _ was _ , and the mere suggestion that the odd shift in her precious friendship could implicate an actual relationship made Brienne feel slightly nauseous. Because whatever it was they had built between them, it  _ couldn’t _ last. Not with him being Jaime Lannister, and she being some broken version of herself. 

“It’s… I’ve just…” She couldn’t organize her thoughts, not when she had not gotten enough sleep for three consecutive nights, and not while she still hadn’t finished her first cup of morning coffee. 

She groaned, loud and hoping the intensity of it would hide the half sob which escaped her lips as she hid her wounded face from her oldest friend. 

She felt him take a seat next to her. A warm hand coming to rest atop her shoulder. A warmth so unlike the one she was used to receiving, it only made Brienne stifle a small whimper.

“I’ve known you since you were twelve. Big, awkward and erroneously in love with me.” She hit him, glad to at last having regained enough strength to do so. 

“You love him.”

“I- I-”

“It wasn’t a question.”

She did, she loved Jaime more than she had ever thought it was possible to love someone. She hid her face behind her hands again as she felt herself nod. Brienne knew her face had probably turned an intense shade of red. She could feel her heart racing inside her chest, her hands feeling as if they would fall off her body. 

Seven save her, she loved the man more than she should. She loved his face, his eyes, his hands, his disheveled hair, his patient stare, his calm voice, his odd jokes, his reassuring prompts, his steady presence, his patience, his care, his loyalty, his honesty. She even loved his flaws, his arrogance, his quick temper, his stubbornness. She loved him completely and unconditionally. 

“It’s not a death sentence, Brie.”

“Gods, but it feels like one.”

“Why?”

She lowered her hands, sent a knowing glare towards her friend. Face puffy from tears and lack of sleep, nose red from a blush which failed to fully recede. How could he not see it?

“ _ Look _ at me, Renly. Look at what I am and what I’ve become. The man is practically a god, and I’m barely scraping by-”

“Fuck all that!” Renly interrupted, ceremoniously slamming his mug in front of her on the table. Startling Brienne enough to give a slight jump. 

“Seven hells!”

“You are not a broken woman. You’ve never been one and you are most definitely not one now. You are the best surgical resident currently on staff and the entire bloody hospital knows it! Your looks may not be conventional and sure, men may think you ugly -the gods know I once did; but that’s because we’ve all been trained and wired to think that upon first glance; but those who  _ matter _ , those who have grown more than two brain cells in the last decade,  _ will _ take a second glance and realize the wonder you are." 

Reny was kind, he had always been. His words were a comfort, but nevertheless felt almost meaningless.

"Not to mention, Jaime fucking Lannister looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars every night.” 

Her blush came back with a force, blotches of red adorning her face, from the tip of her ears to the top of her breasts. 

“Not to mention he has been looking at you like he wants to fuck the life out of you for months now.”

Breinne was sure she had just turned purple from the potency of her given blush. “Please don’t joke about this.”

“I am not. And you’re no better. I should know, you directed a similar lovestruck stare towards me for a couple of years.”

She figured it was fair, that the only other man she had ever fancied herself to have ever been in love with was the one who could read her infatuated expression best. It didn’t help the man in question was also her oldest and one of her dearest friends. 

“Have you told him?”

Brienne gave a heavy sigh after taking her last sip of coffee. “Told him what?”

She ignored Renly’s less-than subtle eye roll. “That you love him.”

She held her breath for a second. She couldn’t tell him, couldn’t even begin to fathom the idea of ever letting him know the exact extent of her feelings. Truth was, Brienne felt afraid. Afraid of losing him, afraid of being mocked, afraid of rejection. 

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Brienne-”

“I can’t risk him, not for this -whatever  _ this _ is.”

“It’s love, Brienne.”

“I can’t, I don’t know-”

“Brienne-”

“I care for him too much to ever tell him I love him.”

\----------

Jaime struggled to keep his eyes open as he listened to Bear ramble on about their patient’s current condition.

For three consecutive days she had woken him up in the middle of the night; her voice trembling, sobs barely contained. He had thought she had been getting better, but not for the first time since he had known the woman, Jaime grew concerned for Brienne and her tendency to downplay her own suffering. It wouldn’t have been the first time she postponed her own ailments in order to serve a grander purpose. 

“Doctor Lannister!”

Something in the tone of his resident made Jaime believe it had not been the first time he had been called. 

“Sorry, bad night.”

“Bad  _ couple _ of nights.” The resident grumbled. Jaime glared and forcefully took the patient’s charts from Bear’s hands. 

“None of your damn business.”

They had been careful, even if their relationship had somehow shifted into -whatever it was it had now become; the subtle changes had never been displayed in or around the hospital. For the staff at KLG, Jaime and Brienne continued being the oddball friends with little respect for personal boundaries they had always been. 

Outside of KLG  _ -well _ . Jaime struggled to properly name whatever they had become. He knew it to be their own fault, for after Brienne had been promptly discharged from the hospital, neither of them had found the courage to openly discuss all which had transpired inside the closed doors of her hospital room. Desperate, joyous, tender kisses which Jaime had dreaded having to give up, and so he hadn’t. He had continued to kiss her, to gently press his lips on hers in chaste like embraces which he had found she returned with equal care and adoration. 

It had been a little more than a month now, and still, neither dared to speak about it. He couldn’t  _ -wouldn’t _ risk losing her. Jaime felt selfish, knew himself to be so. She was the kindest, fiercest, most stubborn woman he had ever met. She was pure and real and not tinted with the hazards and facades of the world. 

Honest, honorable, calm, young.  _ Gods _ , and she was so young and full of promise; while he was old and more disgraced than not. He would never understand why it was she had allowed him to scurry inside her life's walls. He was sure there had to be someone else who was far more worthy of such an honor. Nevertheless, he felt grateful for it; for knowing her, for being allowed close enough to even dare call himself a friend. 

Still, it was no secret that Brienne had found herself struggling through her days, or that Jaime had earned an administrative report for missing a day of work to care for the injured resident. The fact that their friendship transcended the walls of the hospital was also not a hidden occurrence. Jaime figured Bear and Reed would know of their superior resident's troubles, almost as much as Margaery and Renly knew about them. There were things one could not keep guarded when you had been sharing 36 hour shifts with the same people for months. 

Jaime did not wish to discuss or ponder the subject further, especially not with one as sleezy as Bear. 

With a scowl on his face and having to bite his cheek in order to stifle his yawns, Jaime managed to finish through his morning rounds without further incidents. Bear finished off his various presentations with an ease and wit, Jaime was able to recognize as having Brienne’s influence. Jaime couldn’t help the small smile that graced his lips as a sense of pride overtook him. 

It wasn’t until midday when he finally got the chance to sneak a glance at her. Tired blue eyes met tired green from across different nursing stations, and Jaime allowed himself a small show of affection as he gave her a small and tender smile. His chest warmed as she returned the gesture, a quick and subtle show of her crooked teeth as she paused her own explanation. 

It took him all but a second to decide to approach her; his vision suddenly full of her and her alone, as if the rest of the floor had suddenly disappeared. All he saw was her; tall, proud, stubborn, glorious and clearly worn out. She turned to greet him with only a slight hesitancy which only grew as Jaime found himself reaching out to her, his hand delicately coming to rest against her injured cheek. 

Brienne blinked in surprise, but did not flinch away from his touch; her eyes snapping over to Clegane and back to Jaime in a quick second. 

"Doctor…"

"You look tired, Brienne." He whispered, caring eyes firmly fixed on her face, taking in her entire worn out and confused expression. He ignored her questioning eyes and continued on, his brain having somehow lost all filters. "I'm coming over tonight. We both need to sleep more than three hours a night if we're going to make it to the end of the week. No questions, no excuses, no aversion. You're going to wear yourself out; and me along with you. I'm not young, you know." He was rewarded with a scoff, and felt an exuberant joy as he felt her lean into his touch. 

"I don't need fretting over."

It was almost a whisper, eyes firmly planted on his face, not daring to glance anywhere else, where curious and prying eyes laid in wait. 

"But for  _ your _ sake, I'll tell Renly to let you in. He's still on vacation and refusing to leave the apartment." 

The urge to kiss her was strong, but Jaime had already pushed his luck and had already been rewarded with her acceptance. He reluctantly pulled away, his hand twitching as it left the warmth of her cheek. He watched as Brienne let out a soft sigh as his hand let her go. 

"See you around the floor, resident." 

She smiled, soft and almost sad; and Jaime wished for nothing more than to be able to embrace her as he had been dying to do so for weeks. He couldn’t, though; not there, not anywhere. He watched her turn and leave with a strained pace and the sight of it only made him let go of a small frustrated groan. 

"Subtlety is not your forte."

As he turned a corner, Jaime cursed his luck, before proceeding to curse the nosy resident. "Piss off, Hunt." 

The resident chuckled, a sharp sounding laugh which made Jamie's blood simmer with months worth of repressed anger. 

"You think you've been careful, and I guess you have. I mean, no one's caught the two of you fucking yet, so-"

Jamie's arm came forward, thrusting the disdainful man against the corridor's wall, enjoying his huff of surprise and the flicker of fear which flashed in his eyes. 

"Seven hells!" 

"You sniveling cunt! She's your superior resident, and ten times the surgeon you are and will  _ ever _ be. Show her some fucking respect!"

" _ You _ show her some! You prance around exuding some sort of claim over her and yet you don't even have the balls to go and actually  _ get _ her. You leave her open and vulnerable to the sneers and insults. Whore, they've been calling her  _ -yours _ ."

Jaime thrust Hyle against the wall again, a low growl escaping his mouth; the temptation of punching the idiot, a high one. 

"At least I've never hidden what I am. I told her about the bet. Did she ever tell you that? I told her about it, even if I had been in the running lead to-"

Jaime never let him finish. He punched him. 

\--------- 

"You've got to stop doing this, or you're going to get yourself thrown out from the institution. They were kind enough to reinstate you once, I highly doubt they will again. Even if you are a Lannister.” 

Jaime groaned as Brienne iced his bruised knuckles. 

"Guy was out of line."

"Maybe you'll understand someday." Jaime hissed as she applied firmer pressure on his hand. “There will always be people out of line when it comes to me.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like them, or tolerate it.”

Brienne gave him a half smile, one small and barely visible. He tried to meet her eyes, but found her blue orbs evading his own. 

Jaime hated to admit it, but there had been a truth in Hunt’s words, one which Jaime had been selfishly ignoring. He wanted her, all of her; body, mind and soul. He was hers, completely and unconditionally. He owed her the truth, the complete extent of his feelings; to let her know she was desired, cared for - _ loved _ ; that he craved her voice and her smile, her small laughs and persistent scowls. 

She deserved to know. 

He wasn’t worthy of her, but Seven help him, he loved her. 

“Brienne,” he began, voice low, almost strained; his nervousness seeping out from every pore. 

He heard her breath hitch in anticipation, as if she had been reading his mind and was already aware of the fact he was about to pour his heart and mind out. 

He never got past her name, for Reed arrived, breathing heavily and carrying two phones in his hands. “Doctor Lannister, oh sorry.” The first-year apologized when be realized he had interrupted his attending and superior resident. 

Brienne quickly removed her hand from his injured one, safely tucking it under her arm; her gaze never moving from the floor. 

“What’s wrong, Reed?” Jaime huffed with clear annoyance. 

The first-year stammered in a way which reminded both Jaime and Brienne of young Podrick Payne. The trait was not one they would have normally attributed to the northern doctor; and so the uneasiness Reed carried in his voice was enough for Brienne to raise her eyes, locking her questioning gaze with Reed’s frantic stare. 

“Reed?” She prompted, feeling Jaime almost instantly relax when hearing her voice. 

“Your brother called, and then your sister phoned and they both-”

Jaime’s face paled. Brienne’s stomach dropped. 

\-----------

Tywin Lannister was dead. 

The news was plastered throughout every newsletter and paper. The head of the Lannister holdings and investments, dead at the hands of a rare form of gastric cancer. No one had known about the man’s condition, not even his children. 

Brienne had thought she had seen Jaime at his worst. She hadn’t. Nothing had prepared her for trying to communicate with the Jaime who had just received the news of his father’s death from his two siblings, both yelling at him through strained and tense phone calls. 

They painted a picture, she thought as she took a seat beside him, in front of Renly’s television. Both suffering from trauma which still had not properly mended. Both with tired looks in their eyes. Both clinging to the other for an emotional support she was sure would eventually backfire. 

“Stoneheart keeps calling me.” She offered, turning her body towards him. “I still don’t know how she got my number. You should call her.”

“Fuck her.”

“Jaime-”

“Fuck everything. Gods! I should call Cersei, try and get her to see reason.”

“Jaime!” She tried again, gently laying her hand over his shoulder, tense from the day's events. 

He turned to her and she used the opportunity to fully take him in; red-rimmed eyes, with visible bags under them, his hair longer than she had ever seen it. She knew she looked no better -she  _ knew _ she looked worse for wear, and her still mending wound did her no favors; but she hoped her face brought him the same sense of calm and grounding his own usually did to her. 

“Sleep. I kept you awake, and if you’re half as tired as I feel, then you’re not thinking clearly. Sleep. Talk to your family afterwards.”

He just blinked, a look of incredulence passing through his face. “Only if you promise to join me. You haven’t slept either.” 

His hand came to cup her cheek with such tenderness Brienne felt like crying. She allowed herself to revel in the feel of him if only for a moment, before regaining the last bit of sense which she still possessed. 

“It’s been a tough week, work has been tough, which has made sleeping harder. But I’ve been getting better -you know this.”

“I sleep, you sleep.”

She just hoped she wouldn’t end up regretting this, “Ok.”

Neither were able to tell who fell asleep first, both almost instantly collapsing once their bodies hit her mattress. 

Jaime was the first to wake, having only managed to sleep for three more hours. Groggy and aching, he had to blink several times in order to clear his vision, almost jumping out from Brienne’s bed as he came to realize he had fallen asleep inside her room. 

He caught himself in time, taking notice of the young woman still soundly sleeping next to him, well over on the far side of her bed. He let out a sigh as he realized his sudden movements had not bothered her. 

They had only fallen asleep together once before, on his couch as they had been watching a Historical Documentary on the Maesters of old and their precious Citadel. He had never thought he would ever have the opportunity to wake up next to her again. 

Jaime took a moment to observe her as she slept, her face relaxed in a precious way he almost never got to see. 

With as much stealth as he could manage, he slowly got up from her bed, not wanting to wake her up, for she needed the rest. He owed her as much. 

Not even two months after her own attack, still suffering from residual trauma, and she had somehow found the strength to snap him out of whatever numbing state he had gotten into once his sibling’s words had finished sinking in. 

Dead. Tywin Lannister was  _ dead _ . 

Cersei had been hysterical, already starting to plan the funeral and the will reading, insisting on keeping the children over at Casterly for convenience reasons. 

Tyrion had been drunk, slurring insults and joking about their father’s death, which had only served to further irritate their sister and had culminated in her making threats to strip Tyrion from his share of the inheritance. 

The entire thing had ended up with Jaime having furiously hung up on both. Their father was  _ dead _ . 

Brienne had reached out for him as he had slumped down on the hospital's hard tile floor, tentatively crunching down beside him, blue eyes open and inviting. Jaime had reached back, his arms going over to encircle her frame in an embrace which both knew would probably not go unnoticed, but neither had cared. 

She had let him hold her, and he had held on as if she had been a buoy in a raging sea. 

Jaime walked into the apartment’s kitchen with his phone in hand, going through his messages, groaning as he realized his inbox to have over two-hundred unread texts -most of them from his sister; and one missed call from his brother. 

“I hope you two know what you’re doing.”

Jaime released a curse as he flinched, Renly Baratheon’s voice taking him by surprise. 

“None of your damn business, Baratheon.”

“You two have made it all of the hospital’s business with your little attack on Hunt this morning, and with your almost kiss near Missandei’s station, and finally with a hug which made even Grey get flustered.”

Jaime huffed in annoyance. “How do you even know all this? You’ve been on vacation leave for a week.”

“Missandei is a friend.”

Right. Jaime gave the man an almost sardonic small laugh, flipping his attention back to his unanswered messages. 

“And Brienne is my oldest friend.”

Jaime’s eyes met Renly’ blue, so different from the calm sea he usually found himself drowning in. “I know. She’s also mine.” 

Renly took a minute, but eventually grew satisfied with what he saw Jaime offer, for he turned to leave the room with as little ceremony as possible. 

Jaime let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, almost instantly being hit with a headache. 

Tywin Lannister was dead. 

\--------

Brienne woke up earlier than she normally would have, her mind growing confused as to why she was still wearing last day’s clothing, until the memories of the previous day came flooding in; from waking Jaime up at three in the morning, to letting him to hug her after he had found out about his father’s death. She finally remembered she hadn't fallen asleep alone. 

As quickly as she could, she made her way towards the kitchen, stopping only when she took notice of a note scrawled across the small island. 

_ ‘Sleep. Talk tomorrow. I’m fine. You rest.’ _

She scoffed. 

‘ _ You’ve gotta want to be taken care of sometime.’  _ She could almost hear him argue. Well, she thought, the same could be applied to him. 

She waited an hour to call him, allowing him the extra minutes of sleep she knew he also craved. 

“Sorry for bailing. Renly kept glaring at me.”

“Sorry for not waking. Guess I did need sleep.”

She could almost see his smirk as if he had still been inside her apartment. 

“We both did. Thanks for forcing me to rest.”

“Any news?”

“Beside what every paper and gossip column has been printing? Yes.” Both chuckled. “I talked with Tyrion last night, which is actually why I left; had to pick him up from the airport.”

Brienne appreciated his explanation, though was conscious of the fact he owed her none. 

“We talked, we cried very manly tears and then drank ourselves silly for an hour. We did manage to come to an agreement over several things, so don’t go scowling and verbally insulting us.”

She glared, even if she knew it to be a fruitless effort. 

“We’re flying to Casterly today. I’ve already let Stoneheart know about it. Addam owes me a favor and will be flying in to KL to cover for me in two day’s time.”

_ Wait… _

“Wait, how long are you staying in the Westerlands?” She asked, quick and wary. 

Brienne felt her stomach lurch as she received silence as an answer. 

“Jaime?”

“I don’t actually know. Tywin, he- You know I’m the eldest and he always- Things are a mess. My uncle texted me yesterday to say as much. Cersei is not stable, we all know it; and now that my father isn’t there to protect her and the kids,  _ everyone _ is taking notice and my uncle fears the family could be overthrown from the company.”

Brienne did know, because he had told her as much over the years, and had been witness to several unhinged phone calls and messages from his twin and ex-lover. 

She was also well aware of Lannister Corp. and the tedious life it represented. Tywin Lannister had been a rich tycoon who had mostly inherited his money, but had managed to build an empire twice the size of what he had initially received. He had done so mostly relying on cunning and ruthless negotiating skills, skills which Jaime had neither inherited nor wished to continue. Tywin had almost cut off Jaime when he had found out his eldest son had decided to pursue a career in medicine. Jaime had once confessed to Brienne he truly had no idea how Tywin’s will had been arranged after he had left the Westerlands.

_ ‘Cersei would have been the ideal choice. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s what they both would want. But Cersei’s obsession with being overlooked becasue of her sex has made her more unstable than ever. Tyrion is my candidate, and practically every single other chairman’s favorite Lannister. Tywin hates him, though, and probably will leave him out of his will if only to spite him, even after death.’ _

“I was going to call you tonight.”

“I’m on shift tonight.” She stated. 

Jaime could hear the unease in her voice, the doubt and the stoicism.

“I know. I wish I could postpone this, but I  _ can’t _ .”

Brienne knew this to be true. She could hear the resignation and frustration in his voice.

“And you shouldn’t. It’s your family, Jaime. Don’t worry, KLG will be fine without you for a couple of weeks. It probably won't even miss you.”

_ Although I will.  _

“Trying to use humor to deflect. You’ve been around me too much.”

Brienne chuckled to try and swallow her tears. “Never.”

“Gods, don’t say things like that or I’ll actually believe them.”

His incredulance made Brienne’s heart ache. “I’ll call you later, I’ve got to get ready.”

“Brienne?”

“Yes?”

“Call me. Me not being there doesn’t change a thing. If you ever wake up with sweat on your brow, or with a nauseous stomach, or with exuberant joy -anything. Call me.”

_ Don’t leave today.  _

“So long as you call me. Every time you wake up with your heart in your throat, with anger you can’t calm, with joy you can’t contain. You call me.”

“Deal.”

Brienne hung up with a single tear rolling down her cheek. 

\-------

Her nightmares stopped. His began. 

He called her once during his first day back home, a quick call in which he mostly raged about how he hated the Westerlands and how he wished he had never left KL or her apartment.

His second call came until the next day, a full description of how his trip had gone, having to had traveled alongside a mostly drunk Tyrion. He proceeded to recall almost every single detail from his homecoming; everything from Cersei’s cold shoulder, to Myrcella’s shy attempt at conversation. 

On the third day he asked about her and KLG. Brienne did not say much, for not much had happened. Brienne had feared some sort of confrontation regarding the careless displays of affection they had indulged their coworkers with would occur, but no one had dared to discuss the past day’s events to her face. 

Sansa had been the only one who had gathered enough courage to supply Brienne with the full report on what people were saying behind her back. 

“They’re calling you his whore.”

“Who?”

“People. They’ve been throwing the word around for months. So you see, people did get amused by yesterday’s events, but a hug and a caress are nothing compared to what people already think the two of you get up to.”

Hearing the term had stung, but not because of the obvious insult it had been meant to be, but because it had only served as a reminder of what people could only dare to picture her as. She was only good enough to be someone’s whore, not their partner, not their lover. 

She told Jaime about it, and was surprised to learn that he had already known about the insult, and had punched Hyle for having used it in his presence. He proceeded to apologize for most of the rest of their call.

On the fifth day he almost gave her a heart attack. 

“Come to Casterly.”

Brienne let a chart fall, the sound echoing in the near empty hallway. “What?”

“The funeral is in two days. It will be three hundred people all pretending to be sad because one of the biggest cunts in Westeros is finally dead; with my sister going along with the charade, while my brother continues to get drunk and my nephews try and look respectable. Did I mention I caught Joff fucking this  _ girl _ and doing drugs last night?”

He hadn’t, but it did not take Brienne by surprise. Joffrey had never been Jaime’s favorite, and he avoided speaking to and about him. 

“I can’t just pack up and leave. I’m a third-year -a  _ resident _ , as you love reminding me.”

“Fuck that. You’re the best one in there; Seven Hells, you’re even better than Shadrich, and he's an attending.”

Brienne turned a corner and retreated as she took notice of Hyle and Reed debating over a patient's treatment. The last thing she needed was Hyle’s persistent judgmental glare or Reed’s pitying glances. 

“That doesn’t mean anything. I’ve just had two weeks off not two months ago!”

“You’d been attacked! Those weren’t vacation days. And aren’t you still owed this semester’s? Hadn’t you switched with Margaery so she could go and help Loras with the move to the Citadel?”

“Jaime,” she groaned out in frustration. She couldn’t leave, no matter how much she wanted to. “That’s not how it works.”

“Brienne,” he started, and oh how Brienne wished he hadn’t, because his voice sounded small and almost childlike and she had no idea how to respond to it. “I want you here for this. I need my friend. I know I can do this by myself, but gods have mercy, knowing I could have you here with me makes me want nothing else.”

\--------

She would one day kill him. For years he had insisted to hate the unashamed misuse of the Lannister name in order to gain advantage, and yet he had gotten her a five day release from her obligations by using said power over Stoneheart. The woman had sneered at Brienne, but had granted the five days of leave. 

If not for the overuse of his power as a Lannister, Brienne would kill him for subjecting her to further teasing from her friends and peers. Margaery’s smile had been practically devilish, while Sansa’s had been almost sickenly adoring. Renly had called them idiots, and Sandor had seconded his statement. The entire thing had been a bizarre experience Brienne did not wish to ever presence again. 

And if not for the uncomfortable teases, she would kill him for forcing her into having to dress up. In a black, tight dress which did nothing to hide her height or her unwomanly figure, she pranced through the doors of the grandest manor she had ever had the privilege to see. 

Her home on Tarth was not considered modest, but it held nothing against the grandeur that was Casterly Rock. The name taken from the castle which had once stood tall and proud atop of the rocky shore of the Sunset sea; the restored manor did its namesake justice. 

Funerals were not a lively occasion, no matter the death or the circumstances. The somber air could almost be smelt as Breinne moved across the parlor; dodging men and women, all dressed in finery, all trying their hardest to remain of neutral or saddened expression. Brienne could observe the pretentiousness Jaime loved to mock and moan about. 

She could feel their eyes on her, carefully dissecting every single aspect of her being. Her brittle and untamable straw-like hair, her thick lips and crooked nose, her large frame and strong muscles. It was all on display for everyone to sneer and leer at. Most of all, she heard the snickers and mumbling which made reference to the uneven scar on her cheek. 

_ ‘A battle wound even the knights of old would be proud of.’  _ His voice jumped out every time she caught a person staring, disgust clearly written on their faces. 

She had yet to find him in the midst of black and gold. She moved across the parlor, dodging superfluous greetings and insincere smiles, grabbing a flute of champagne which had somehow ended up having been offered to her. 

She would one day kill him, but not today. 

She stood in place, allowing herself a second of respite as she took a small and decent sip of her flute, her blue eyes firmly fixed on a portrait which rested atop of the room’s grand fireplace. Five heads, all golden, all proud. 

Tywin Lannister stood tall and cold-like, eyes almost empty as he stared straight ahead. Brienne shivered. Joanna Lannister held a soft but tired gaze, a clear sign of the sickness she had been nursing and avoiding. Two golden children, both with irritation at having been asked to pose and pure childish mirth clearly written on their faces. The fifth, a mere babe, clearly not having meant to be in the picture, his blond curls the only truly visible thing about him. 

“Have you ever been told you’re an embarrassment to your family? No, your father’s always loved you, you told me so once. But you  _ have _ been told you’re embarrassing. That’s a fact, not an insult on my part. Now, can you imagine being reminded of that, every single day as you walked through your own home? That you hadn’t supposed to come into the world? That you would have been better off being someone else -something else?”

His voice was not slurred, but it most definitely not sound sober. It carried a cruelty and self-deprecation which Brienne was not at all used to hearing coming from the youngest Lannister. Tyrion turned to look upon her, a small, crooked smile on his face; mismatched eyes not entirely focused. 

She knew that stare, for she had been witness to it many a time for many years. It was a stare of anger, of melancholy, of longing. It was the stare of one who desperately wished to be anyone else other than the person staring back in the mirror. 

“I can actually. The truth is in the mirror. You can’t hide from them, you can’t hide from it.”

Brienne couldn’t decide if Tyrion let out a chuckle or scoff, but whichever it was, it ripped from him with such scorn it managed to make her feel uncomfortable. The entire situation was outlandish, and only serving to unnerve Brienne in a way she hadn’t felt ever since she had been sixteen. 

“Ah mirrors, either a woman’s greatest ally or her biggest foe.” Tyrion drowned his drink, his gaze leaving her and finding itself fixed upon the dreaded picture in front of them. “Please do me and my brother a favor and try to stay clear of Cersei. I still can’t believe the idiot thought it a good idea to make you come here today. No matter how much he loves you or how much you love him, you are both fools for thinking you can survive through this day without adding a couple of more scars onto your souls.”

Brienne tried to remain as unresponsive as she could, trying her hardest to ignore a confession which had not yet been made. 

“He’s my friend; he needed a friend.”

Again, Brienne couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion the youngest Lannister tried to emote as he gave a wry grin. “And that’s what’s worst of all. You both value your precious friendship above everything else. Don’t let the golden curls or gem-like eyes fool you. Our sister is a viper who inherited all of our father’s cruelty with none of his cunning. She’ll destroy you and him, if you let her. And Brienne,” he turned towards her once again, eyes as sober as he could make them appear, “you don’t  _ owe _ her your kindness. Lannisters are proud above all else; you know that. And there’s the evidence of it planted upon this wall.”

Tyrion made to grab another drink from an oncoming waiter, the serving man automatically kneeling in order to accommodate his employer. 

“He’s in the back garden, looking almost as miserable as you do. Though I’ve got to admit, you do clean up rather well.”

With that having been said, Tyrion turned and wobbled his way away from her, leaving Brienne feeling no less uneasy than she had before. 

She took another quick sip from her own drink, stealing one last glance at the disconcerting portrait before eagerly leaving the suffocating room. 

She managed to find a door leading up to the manor’s backyard without much trouble, but once outside had to stop herself from loudly groaning as she took in the sea of people obstructing her way. 

She moved through the crowds as gracefully as she could, blue eyes trying to pinpoint a specific head of blond hair among a sea of mostly golden crowns. 

“Oh, this is rich, my brother’s pet prancing around the family’s home, leering and sniffing out potential advantages. Gods, you truly are a beast of a woman, aren’t you?”

_ Fuck _ . Brienne froze, for she recognized the voice, and the venom spitting out from it. 

She was somehow not as pretty as Brienne had initially thought her out to be. Nevertheless, the woman was striking, and Brienne could see how she could have once been thought one of the most beautiful people in the country; but the woman who stood in front of her, sneering at her from behind an almost empty glass of wine, was one who had seen better and sober days. 

Cersei’s green eyes were fierce and so alike her twin’s, they made Brienne uncomfortably shift. Calm eyes rimmed with a viciousness she was not at all used to seeing coming from those emerald-like orbs. 

Her curls were indeed as golden as the sun, and even if the woman did look tired and not as glorious as Brienne had always pictured her -she was still an intimidating force of beauty and femininity. Dressed in a sharp black suit, with delicate heels and delicate features, lithe body, and a cunning smile which could either seduce or kill anyone. Brienne could feel herself getting anxious. She needed to find Jaime.

“Tyrion told me about you. Tall, was all he said; he never mentioned your face. An unfortunate happenstance; a pity too. With your height you could have been a star, an imposing force which would make any man or woman tremble with desire, with anticipation." The laugh Cersei gave irked Brienne; a laugh filled with both irony and disdain. “Oh, but I forgot; it’s only my brother’s affection you’re after, aren’t you?”

Brienne didn’t grant the woman a verbal answer, although she could feel her skin slowly reddening. Anger was slowly building within her, a sharp and sudden rush which made Brienne’s first flex with calculated strength. 

“I’ve heard of midlife crises, of old men enjoying fresher meat, uncharted waters.” Cersei spat, her green eyes scurrying over Brienne’s entire frame with such contempt Brienne could hear the unvoiced insults the woman was giving her. “I never imagined my brother would go for tall and ugly. He must have lost more than his hand’s strength-”

“He didn’t lose anything.”

Cersei almost choked on her drink, a breathy but cruel laugh escaping her red lips. “Oh, she speaks.”

“He didn’t lose strength, or anything else.”

“And you claim to know him so well. He’s not even half the man he was before he met you, you idiot  _ cow _ ! He was glorious in a way only a man who had been hand sculpted by the gods could be. He was perfect. He was my mirror in every sense of the word, we were one soul in two bodies. Have you ever experienced that? The joy of feeling your soul entwined with someone else's? The ecstasy at finally joining with the other half of you? Feeling like you’re finally complete as he moves inside you?”

Brienne huffed, but braced herself to not lose eye contact with the drunken woman. 

Cersei’s eyes widened in recognition and for a second grew weary, as if she had not expected such a tame reaction from Brienne. It was then Brienne finally understood. The Lannisters were proud, proud and shallow. To Cersei, the fact that Brienne could know every single filthy detail regarding their family and still love her brother was unfathomable. 

“Seven hells, but you already knew.”

“Yes,” Brienne sighed, her voice firmer than she would have believed herself to be able to manage. 

“About me, about-”

“About Myrcella. About the late nights when you would call him, drunk more often than not, raging about him leaving you, threatening to hide the children from him; his own daughter included. I know about Estermont, and how you convinced him to not date the Stormlands girl. I know about Robert and Osmund and Osney. I know all.”

Cersei paled, green eyes opening in something close to shame. 

“A lie.”

“Your brother would tell you; I cannot lie to save my own skin. I almost cost him a suspension when I tried covering for him once. I don’t lie, I have no reason to. I know everything because he told me, because I've been there.”

“My brother and I were born together, bound by something stronger than blood, stronger than anything on this earth. He is me and I am him and we belong together -one way or another.”

She was drunk, drunk and confused, drunk and desperate, drunk and exactly what Jaime had always described as being: unstable. Her eyes kept darting over Brienne’s shoulder, as if she were scared of being overheard, yet she didn’t manage to tame her tone of voice. Her hands kept hitting and bumping into each other, sending drops and splashes of wine all over her tailored suit. 

“You haven’t fucked him, I know that much; I could see it in your eyes, when I described how it felt to have him in me. And he’ll keep you around just long enough to do so. You’re nothing, you hear? You’re some freak of nature who he has developed a soft spot for, and whom he will discard once he feels he’s fulfilled his purpose with. He’s always had a soft spot for anomalies. Always jumping out to defend our dear baby brother, until the wretched monster grew up to become even more vicious than our own father. You’re nothing but a nice conquest, a trial. You’re  _ nothing _ . And he’s pathetic for keeping you-”

Brienne threw what was left of her drink in the woman’s face, the splash of it making Cersei gasp and try to retaliate by slapping her. But the older woman was drunk and blind with rage. Brienne was taller, stronger, younger, quicker and well past the point of infuriated. 

“Insult me all you want. But don’t you dare offend him. He’s your brother, and your daughter’s father.”

Caersei’s winced as Brienne held a firmer grasp on her raised arm. “He’s a good surgeon and an even better man. And I’ve got his back, same as he’s got mine.”

“You pathetic  _ child _ ,” Cersei sneered, the last of her pride trying to make itself known, “you’re in love with him.”

Brienne let her go, content in taking notice their little interaction had not drawn much attention. “Don’t keep the children from him. Out of everything, Cersei, they’re what he loves most.”

And both women knew the statement to be the truth, and both calmed the storm brewing inside them as they each let the words settle within. Brienne retreated her hand back into herself; her hands going over her skirts, trying to both smooth them out and somehow make them longer. 

Cersei shook her head in order to get the few drops of champagne which still lingered on her hair, dried off. With a final leer and a choked scoff, Jaime’s twin left Brienne alone against a sea of prickling and conceited Lannisters. 

Two Lannister heirs done, one to go. 

She walked with even less confidence than before, her empty glass clutched in one hand as her eyes searched for the one person she now desperately  _ needed _ to see. 

She didn’t find him in the gated garden, but right outside of it; leaning against a tree as he attentively listened to whom looked like to be his daughter, talk. The girl was a replica of her mother; all golden, beautiful and lithe, but with a softer smile and kinder eyes. Eyes so alike Jaime’s, Brienne couldn’t help but wonder why no one had ever dared to question the girl’s parentage before Robert’s untimely death. 

She paused to observe the pair. Jaime laughed and nodded with caution, his expression guarded and measured. He was trying to not scare the girl away. Even from afar, Brienne could see his fears were misplaced; for even if the girl did look uneasy, her eyes shone with a love which ran deep and with a need for validation it almost hurt to witness. 

There was a smaller boy running around, golden and desperately trying to get Jaime’s attention. Tommen, Brienne thought, that must have been the youngest Baratheon child. She couldn’t help raising her eyebrows as she took in the boy's face, so alike Jaime’s own; if it weren’t for the fact they had confirmed his paternity to be that of another man, she would have thought him being his as well. 

Jaime laughed, loud and unmeasured. Brienne grinned, he was like an anchor in a storm, the port of a troubled sea. He was  _ home _ . 

She didn’t want to intrude and so did not make a move, but the younger boy spotted her, enthusiastically waving his still childlike arm her way. 

Jaime turned and finally locked eyes with her own, his smile growing, his shoulders visibly relaxing. 

Brienne saw him speak to his daughter; saw the young girl nod and call out to her brother; sending a quick wave Brienne’s way, before taking Tommen’s hand in her own and leading him away from the clearing and back into the sea of bustling Lannisters. 

Brienne was privy to witness the slight chin tremble both kids gave before subjecting themselves to the vulturing eyes of their relatives. 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He exhaled. 

“You seemed to be doing fine.”

He chuckled and did not hesitate to embrace her, his arms circling her form almost completely. He was firm and warm and tense, but he was air; light and breathable and exactly what she had been craving throughout the entire day. 

“I’m hiding from my family with the youngest of the lot. I am sure that is the definition of cowardice.”

Still not allowing herself to release him, Brienne took in his familiar scent before answering, “You are many things, Jaime Lannister, coward is not one of them.”

“You see me through kind eyes.”

“I don’t lie. I can’t, remember?”

Jaime chuckled, finally releasing her from their almost desperate embrace. He allowed himself a brief moment to take her in; donning a dress which did not properly fit her, with black flats and with her hair in that silly low bun she always tried, but failed to properly style. She looked exactly as he had pictured her; tall, awkward and perfect. 

“I’m guessing you only own one black dress.”

Her friendly hit was welcomed, and he took advantage of her sudden movement to grab on to her released arm, firmly tucking it close to his own, forcing them to walk side by side; their bodies as close as he could make them. 

She yelped in surprise but offered no resistance. 

“I only own one decent black outfit. I highly doubt any gym clothes would have been welcomed. I don’t think they would have even allowed me entrance if I had dared to wear them.”

Jaime could clearly picture her; dressed in her black leggings and black sports bra, hair tucked back, brows furrowed in concentration, with no hint of anxiety or weariness. 

“I think I would have preferred you wearing that. It would have surely brighten the day, and would have made everyone else feel uncomfortable as the heir of the estate pranced around with an armored warrior by his side.”

She gave him a full and blotchy blush and Jaime could feel his heart swell at the familiar sight. Gods, he had needed her presence. 

He walked them back toward the sea of Lannisters, all chatting and offering each other empty words of condolence. He didn’t want to subject her to the circus which was his extended family. And he would try not to, but he did need to at least pretend he had greeted some of them. 

He noticed her tense up beside him as she realized where he was leading her toward. 

“Something tells me you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting the Lannisters.”

Brienne gulped, her eyes meeting the ground, a strand of loose hair falling over her face. Jaime made a gesture to softly brush it behind her ear; the movement soft and caress-like, one which had Brienne’s heart wildly thumping. 

“Just two.”

_ ‘Oh well, that’s not so horrible. Wait,  _ which _ two?’ _

“Brienne?” He prompted.

“I stand out, Jaime; even among a sea of blonds, there aren’t many over six feet. She knew who I was. I couldn’t evade her, not even after Tyrion had already warned me against crossing paths with her.”

_ ‘After accusing us  _ both _ of being in love with each other.’  _

“Tyrion  _ and _ Cersei. You’ve seen them both?”

They continued on walking, her arm still cradled near him, their bodies pressed against the other’s. 

“Yes, I had been looking for you.”

“Gods, I am so sorry. I should have waited closer to the door, but Myrcella called out to me, and,” he paused when taking notice she wasn’t holding him in any sort of contempt for having abandoned her to his siblings' erratic behavior. “Just how drunk  _ was _ Tyrion? If he’s well past the point of sense it will mean  _ I _ will be the one in charge of telling Cersei about the agreement we’ve reached, and I don’t think  _ I’m _ drunk enough for that.”

Brienne ignored the questions which formed inside her brain, knowing that they would eventually get answered. “Drunk enough to almost hit on me.”

“So, still with reason. Good.”

Brienne ignored the possible double meaning in his statement. 

“About my sister, though-” He got caught off by an aunt. 

“Jaime! I almost didn’t recognize you with the beard and the hair!”

It was the first interruption of many, as they tried to make their way across the yard and towards the other end of the manor, where Jaime assured Brienne they wouldn’t be bothered. 

Jaime faked his smiles and tightened his grip on her, as if she were the anchor and not him. He presented her to his relations as a fellow surgeon, not once ever making her feel either inadequate or purposely on display, which she would be eternally grateful for. He treated her as an equal, and with him doing so, made everyone else at least try to not be condescending towards her. 

“I owe you. I am in your debt, not that I already hadn’t been, but I am. That was horrible, I’m sorry.”

Brienne sighed in relief as they finally entered the smaller garden house. She could hear Myrcella and Tommen bickering somewhere inside the warm cottage, and the dying noises of the overbearing Lannisters across the yard. 

“You owe me nothing. You owe Sansa an explanation, and Sandor wants half your earnings -or so it’s been rumored. But you don’t owe  _ me _ anything. I’m your friend.”

“Friend,” he sighed. 

“Above everything else. Yes, I’m your friend.”

Jaime reached her in two steps, both of their arms meeting each other halfway; their hug fierce and desperate, glad in being able to freely embrace away from prying Lannister eyes. 

Brienne took in his smell, his strong frame, his well combed hair. “You haven’t cut your hair.”

Jaime chuckled, but didn’t dare release her yet. “I thought you liked it.”

Brienne blushed as she rested her head against his shoulder, relishing the fact he was tall enough for her to do so, trying her hardest to resist the urge to nuzzle his exposed neck. 

“I do.” She breathed out, taking the opportunity to gently run her fingers through the longer strands which now fell just a little under his neck line. She couldn’t ignore his soft, appreciative hum. 

After a second or two of content and much needed silence between them, Jaime gathered enough courage to ask, “what did she say to you?”

Brienne needn't have asked to whom he was referring. “Nothing new.”

Jaime snorted, finally disentangling himself from her tight hold; their arms still entangled with each other, but bodies now seperated. 

“Brienne…” There was something she was holding back. 

“I might have thrown my champagne at her, though.”

Jaime coughed in sheer amusement, and couldn’t help but press his body against hers once more. It wasn’t as desperate and needy as their first hug had been, but nevertheless it was still warm and comforting.

“She’s going to retaliate, you know. Pray she gets drunk enough to forget about it.”

“I’m not scared of your sister.”

“I know you aren't,” he finally released her with a small and amusing chuckle, “but I am concerned for her well being. You have thrown punches on my behalf before.”

“I think you’re confusing me with you.”

Jaime’s eyes sparkled with joyous mirth as he walked further inside the cottage. Gods she loved him; she loved him and she would never forgive herself if she allowed her silly, girlish feelings to ruin them.

He deserved the truth from her.

He called out to the children, one almost fourteen and carrying a weight on her shoulders no child should; the other still twelve and still mostly innocent of the terrors of the world. They were Jamie's -both of them, and for the first time since Brienne had known about their existence she could finally understand why. 

He was their beacon among a darkness which had surrounded them for most of their short lives. 

Jaime made brief introductions, making Tommen promise to behave himself as Myrcella eyed Brienne with a curious yet raptured expression. 

Jaime insisted to Brienne it was awe. Brienne scoffed and ignored him, but continued to indulge the teen with stories of Tarth and Prep School fencing tourneys. 

They managed to successfully hide for almost two hours, Myrcella somehow convincing Brienne to demonstrate fencing positions and cue points which then evolved into a mock fight pinning girls versus boys. Time flew by with an ease which Brienne would have never thought possible when put in a room with children. But Tommen and Myrcella were easy, both exuding a gentleness which Breinne attributed to their time spent with their uncle. 

They finally returned to the funeral gathering, after Jaime's phone had started going off with calls from both his uncle, Kevan Lannister, and his brother. He had answered both calls, grumbling through most of the conversations, earning chuckles from Tommen and concerned glances from both women. 

"Stay with them for a while longer?" 

Brienne's eyes widened. It had been one thing to entertain while he had been there, guiding her through every time she got stuck in conversation or had been asked an impertinent question. She didn't think she could handle them both on her own. 

"Cersei's passed out, Tyrion is drunk well past the point of reason and my uncle is threatening to leave if I don’t do something about -all of this. I can't leave them alone, not without risking either of them finding their mother or hearing about her."

Brienne's mind whirled with the information given. She could then see it in his eyes, how the entire dire situation was one he was more than familiar with. It had been his life -for  _ years _ . The hiding, the pretending, the protecting. It was who Jaime was.

"You can't keep protecting them forever. I'm not even sure they are completely oblivious on the subject. Myrcella constantly keeps looking over her shoulder, and Tommen flinches whenever he hears a loud noise."

"I know. But if I don't at least  _ try _ -I'll never forgive myself."

They were her words; words which had been uttered years before, back when she hadn't even been sure she  _ liked _ him. 

"I think I know the feeling."

And so he left her in the kitchens, with Tommen enthusiastically trying to show her all of the places he used to hide his sweets in when he had been little, and with Myrcella silently observing them. Brienne tried to not feel scrutinized, but for all of Myrcella’s charm and kindness, she was still Cersei’s daughter and could emanate her calculating glance to perfection.

“Uncle Jaime told me about you. Before today, I mean. He told me he didn’t keep secrets from you.”

Brienne stopped chasing Tommen around, turning to stare at the girl. “He doesn’t. I try not to either; we made a deal some time ago.”

“I know. He told me that, too.”

Right. 

“So, you know about him and mom.”

She would not gain anything by trying to sugar coat something as serious and delicate as this, and Brienne had never been one blessed with the graces for false assurance. 

“And about you.” Brienne waited, carefully observing the girl, looking for any signs of distaste or shame. But there weren’t any. The teen only nodded, as if she had taken her time in hearing Brienne’s statement. She then proceeded to lock her green eyes with Brienne’s own; a stare so alike the one Jaime possessed, Brienne could not help but relax under such a trusting stance. 

“Good. We can make something to eat if we want. No one will mind.”

Brienne smiled, shy and honest, grateful for the girl’s trust.

Jaime found them some time later, the three of them sitting around the kitchen island, all with half-eaten snacks in front of them and easy smiles on their faces. 

“Is everything all right?”

“Is mom all right?”

Jaime’s face clouded, and for the first time since Brienne had ever known him, he looked his age. Forty and far beyond exhausted. 

“Everything’s as best as it can be; including your mother.”

Myrcella gave a curt nod and resumed eating her food; green eyes suddenly deprived of their previously obtained mirth. 

“I should go, it’s getting late and most people have-” Brienne made a move to leave, the sudden familiarity of the situation making her head spin. It shouldn't have been so easy to fit inside Jaime's tight-knit family unit, but it had. 

“You don't have to leave. Not right now, not right after-” Jaime stopped as he took notice of Tommen carefully watching his every move. 

Myrcella, proving to Brienne she carried far more than she ought to on her shoulders, tucked on her brother’s sleeve, making him stand, and proceeded to excuse the both of them.

Jaime gave each kid a quick, but comforting hug, whispering something which made each of them chuckle and give Brienne a beaming smile.

“I told you she was smarter than you gave her credit for.”

“I keep forgetting she’s no longer a kid. She told me about a crush she has on some dornish kid who fancies himself related to some of the princes of old. I nearly gagged.”

It was a nice way to ease into a conversation neither of them were eager to have. 

“How’s your sister?” 

“Drunk and currently under my uncle’s observing eyes. Tyrion too, although he still regains consciousness. The entire negotiation has been postponed.”

She didn't offer any form of verbal response, but waited in silence; patiently waiting for an answer, a movement. 

He did not disappoint and moved to sit on the stool next to hers, letting out a tired sigh as he did so. She used their shared silence to fully take him in; tie long forgotten, suit jacket askew, hair no longer in place. 

She reached for him, almost unconsciously, and tugged a loose strand of golden hair behind his ear, in the same way he seemed so fond of doing so himself. He rewarded her action with a soft and wistful smile. 

“We read the will yesterday.” Brienne already knew as much. “He named me heir and director of Lannister Corp.”

_ Oh _ . 

“But-”

“I don’t want it. Seven hells! I don’t even know the first thing about running his business and whatever other shit he was into. And Cersei is not in a fit place to run it either; and now that half the family has seen her like this, we would be fools to even let her near the money. Tyrion can do it, but the stubborn ass he is, he is refusing to touch any of the actions, just out of pure spite; and to make my life even more miserable, no doubt. So we agreed, Kevan will be left in charge in my name. Tyrion drew up a fancy contract and the two talked for hours. I just asked them to tell me where I had to sign my thrice-damned name. We were planning on telling my sister tonight.”

Oh. Brienne had no idea on how to respond, for she was still trying to process the fact that a father had died and instead of mourning the man, the world seemed insistent on cursing him in some way or another. 

It was odd, the fact that a place as grand and spacious as Casterly Rock was, could feel so  _ suffocating _ . She could only imagine how Jaime and his siblings must have felt growing up there. Brienne suddenly remembered the grand portrait hanging over the fireplace in the parlour and it all became clear. 

All she could find herself offering was the small comfort of her hand atop of his, gently applying pressure in reassurance. 

“When do you leave?” 

“Two days from now. Someone pulled out the Lannister card and granted me five days of vacation.”

That got a smirk out of him. 

“But I wasn’t kidding, I should get going. There’s almost no one here left. And you should go and-”

“You don't need to leave yet. Not tonight.”  _ Not ever.  _ “Kevan is playing host and trying to get the house rid of rats and leeches. I can hide to my heart’s desire. In fact, he insisted I do so, makes my siblings look less odd for bailing.”

She couldn’t. Not with Myrcella and Tommen around, and with Cersei in near proximity. 

“Don’t leave. You call, I call; right? Well, this is me calling. Stay.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Who says I play fair? Brienne, if you truly wish to leave, then do so; but don’t just go because it’s what deemed as morally correct. Fuck morals, and fuck my family. I want you here. What do  _ you _ want?.”

_ You. All of you.  _

“I’ll stay.”

He kissed her forehead before standing up from his stool, feeling lighter than he had all day. His sudden caress made Brienne feel dizzy. She just wished she didn’t end up regretting her decision. 

She trusted Jaime. She did not trust herself. 

\-----------

It definitely wasn’t what she had in mind when she had agreed to stay longer than she had originally intended. But Brienne somehow found herself in the middle of Jaime’s childhood room, dressed in  _ his _ sleepwear, sitting on  _ his _ bed as she waited for him to finish changing. 

The afternoon had gone smoothly by, with Kevan Lannister having far more sense than any other Lannister Brienne had had the pleasure of meeting on that day. The man  _ did _ resemble the now deceased tycoon, but not enough to cause Brienne’s skin to prickle in discomfort. 

Myrcella and Tommend had taken to her lingering presence surprisingly well. Tommen kept asking her questions about Tarth and sailing, while Myrcella showed her pictures of her during fencing practice and shyly inquired about her life as a surgical resident. 

Jaime had not left her side throughout the entire afternoon, not even during dinner, when the last of their flaunting guests had finally left the small, broken family in peace. Brienne had found herself not minding his constant need to touch, for she herself felt as if she were floating with only his reassuring warmth as her anchor to reality. 

She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and allowed her body to lay down, tired from the exhausting day. She let herself close her eyes, enjoying the feel of the mattress and the warmth of the sheets; Jaime’s faint smell lingering in the air as she felt herself get pulled under a much needed sleep. 

Brienne woke to find Jaime sitting on the edge of his bed, eyeing her with a look which she preferred to not name. 

“I keep forgetting you’re still a third-year and keep odd hours.”

“You’ve been back on days for less than a year. Don’t flaunt.”

He chuckled, enjoying how she furrowed her brows in annoyance at both having been woken up and because of his tease. 

He leaned over to kiss her forehead, almost giving into kissing her lips, but restraining his dire need. She trusted him enough to share his bed, he wasn’t going to ruin it by behaving like the rash adolescent he suddenly felt. 

Brienne tensed, but did not move from where she was; her blue eyes still cloudy from sleep, but determinedly fixed on him, searching for something which neither of them could properly name. 

“Brienne-” he began, but she stopped him.

“What are we doing, Jaime?”

It was easier, to whisper the words in the darkness of the room; the only light coming in, being the soft glow of the outside garden lights. It was only bright enough for her to clearly make out his eyes, and his face's silhouette.

His face hovered close to her own, their breaths mingling as they each gave uneven exhales; their lips close enough to kiss. 

“Not tonight, please, Brienne. Not tonight.” He was desperate. He didn’t want to ruin their peace, the calm they had somehow managed to build in the mere span of hours. 

But life had to go on, and Brienne would return to KLG in two days, and he had to stay and sort out his family and their shit. Their small and carefully guarded bubble was about to burst. They both knew it. Jaime wanted to hold on to something which Brienne felt better to put an end to now -if only to not prolong the eventual suffering.

“When are you getting back?” She asked, already knowing it would not be for some time. She could read it in his eyes; in the way he had held on to her as they had walked, in the way he had talked to his daughter as she had questioned him about still going over to stay in the city during her vacation period. 

“You’re smarter than that.”

“When are you coming home?”

He brought up his hand to her injured cheek, as he had done so many times, gently caressing the still tender flesh; his eyes going over her face, studying every inch of her. It should have made her uncomfortable, and probably would have done so in the past. But it was Jaime, and she welcomed his tenderness and his reverence-like examination. Under his calm gaze, she could almost believe herself desired -loved. 

“I don’t know.”

Brienne nodded, her eyes filing with unshed tears, her face leaning into his warm touch as she had done so many times before. 

“Brienne-”

“Not tonight. Please Jaime, let’s just -go to sleep.”

“I’ll try and get back before you start your fourth-year; we’ll go out and celebrate your newly acquired dominance over the floor and won’t tell Margaery about it, she’ll go nuts.”

She chuckled, appreciating his humor. 

“Addam should be fine covering for a few months.”

“He's good,” she agreed, “but he’s not  _ you _ .” She finished, her voice low and her cheeks warm. 

“Brienne,” he called out; his voice deeper, huskier than it had been a second before; the sound of it making Brienne’s insides vibrate. “I would have thought you’ve learned by now.” He leaned towards her; his lips gracing her ear, making her shiver and withhold her breathing. “There are no men like me, there’s  _ only _ me.”

Seven hells, she wanted him. 

“Duly noted.”

She couldn’t have him. 

\---------


	10. meet me in the afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything spirals out of control. Brienne and Jaime spend six months apart. A declaration is made. 
> 
> Or: the storm before the calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: THANK YOU to everyone who has read, left a comment, given kudos. I never thought this would get the love it did. 
> 
> This is chapter 10, which is technically an extension of chapter 9 and also the last chapter in this little tale of mine. 
> 
> There IS an epilogue which will get posted (fingers crossed I can edit that monstrous baby by next week). But this is where this story ends. 
> 
> I love you all and the chance you gave a medical inspired fic. 
> 
> Anyway, mistakes are my mine and mine alone. 
> 
> Chapter title from Taylor Swift's Afterglow (which is a masterpiece, fight me).

The following days blurred together, with Brienne being allowed to remain at Casterly, and Jaime insisting she was more than welcome to take full advantage of his family’s lavish home. 

It wasn’t hard to pretend everything wasn’t threatening to crumble around them. With Myrcella and Tommen around, and sometimes even Tyrion making an appearance during lunch or dinner; it was easy to fall into an almost familiar routine. 

Brienne never did see Cersei or the eldest Baratheon child, during the rest of her stay.

She left on the third day. 

Myrcella promised to text; Tommen granted her a quick kiss to her cheek, his own face reddening in a way which reminded Brienne of her own unhandsome blushes. Even Tyrion granted her a small, but well intended nod as he lifted what Brienne could only assume would have been a cup of wine in a mock toast. 

Jaime waited until she had already safely secured her travel bag inside the cab which was to drive her to the airport, before taking a step forward. He embraced her, without reserve or hesitation, and Brienne found herself matching his almost desperate grasp. 

“I’ll miss you.”

“Come back as soon as you can.”

He released her enough to meet her forehead with his; their breaths intertwining, their eyes unblinking, trying to express everything which they had both been too cowardly to ever say. 

Jaime didn’t know when he would be able to see her again, much less under what circumstances. So he took a gamble, because he wanted to, because he was tired and because she was worth every hazard and potential turmoil. He kissed her. 

She gave a small gasp and she did tense, but it only lasted less than a second before she almost melted against him. 

She kissed him back, without finesse, without measure, but with as much longing and love as she could conjure up in that moment. 

He tasted her tears, salty and bitter, the feel of them on his lips making him tighten his hold around her. 

It ended with both sighing against each other; blue meeting green for only a brief second. 

"Call me when you get home.”

Brienne nodded, her eyes never leaving his as she took a step backward, disentangling herself from him. The brisk summer air hitting her hard, a sharp contrast to his warmth. 

With a final wave she entered the cab and tried her hardest to not break out into sobs. She had no right to mourn something which had never been hers, not completely. 

\-------

KLG didn’t  _ look _ different; it hadn’t gotten a new paint job (which it desperately needed), or had acquired a new wing. The fifth floor still lacked proper lighting and the surgical bed inside OR 4 still creaked whenever a patient weighed over a hundred stone. Nothing had changed, yet Brienne felt as if she had arrived back to a completely different hospital. 

For almost four years, King’s Landing General Hospital had been Brienne’s home; she knew it’s halls and rooms, it’s triumphs and misfortunes; most of all she knew it’s people. Nurses and doctors who had been there for  _ years _ , who had never failed to help any resident or intern in need. 

KLG was one of the oldest, and most definitely the busiest of teaching hospitals in Westeros; it was a building which had always looked favorably upon those who wished to better themselves, those who craved knowledge and experience.

The first time Brienne was overlooked for a procedure she didn’t think much on it, almost enjoying the extra time she had been gifted with; using said time to finish off her backlogged reports and sneak in a quick call to Jaime who insisted on being called every other day with news of Addam and the hospital. The calls hurt less each time she made one. 

By the end of her second week back, and after learning Reed and Bear had both scrubbed in during a colon resection without ever calling to consult her during a night shift, Brienne knew that something was amiss. 

Margaery, for all her flattery and all her reliableness, could never force herself to deliberately injure a friend, and thus would divert their conversations every time Brienne tried broaching the subject about her suddenly underwhelming surgical schedule. 

Sandor was no better. He gruffed and cursed, but offered her no viable explanation. 

Jon tried to explain it to her, but ended up getting even more embarrassed about whatever it was he had been trying to say and ended up suggesting Brienne ask Sansa. 

So she did. 

“They feel odd around you. They know you used those days to go to Casterly and play at being a Lannister.” Sansa supplied as both women started scrubbing themselves down for a quick appendectomy. 

“I wasn’t-” Brienne shook her head, her own defence wouldn’t amount to anything. “I still don’t understand why the cold shoulder. They never treated me differently when they thought I was- that we were-”

Sansa gave her a sad and almost compassionate smile, one which Brienne had trouble receiving and found herself squirming under. 

“People know he convinced Stoneheart to give you leave.”

_ Gods, what a mess. _ Breinne groaned. 

“Look, no one knows what happened, or what was happening-”

“Nothing happened!” Not exactly true. “And nothing was happening before that. We were-  _ are _ friends, we’re friends; we’ve always been so.” Not always. 

Once again, Sansa gave her a far too knowing look, and far too alike her own mother’s stare. 

It made Brienne shiver. 

“I’m sure it will pass. People get silly about these things. It happened when my relationship went public, and we’re both only residents. Lannister is an attending surgeon, and one with a lot of history.”

Brienne scoffed, but carried on scrubbing. 

“It will pass, you’ll see. You’re the best of us, there’s no way they’ll just jump you over for the more complicated procedures.”

It didn’t pass.

From being one of the busiest of residents, Brienne felt idle as her hours inside the OR got cut off in almost half. 

She never mentioned it to Jaime, whose calls finally started getting further and further apart. He would call every third or fourth day, asking for information on KLG, on Addam and on her. She would not lie, but she would refrain from giving him full disclosure on the absurding mess her resident life had become. 

Addam Marbrand became a favorite subject for both, for Jaime was always eager to jest about one of his oldest friends and Brienne felt comfortable enough talking about the redhead. Marbrand was one of the few surgeons still working at KLG who did not judge or overlook her. 

Marbrand was good, almost as good as Jaime had once been, without radiating the same chaotic energy inside the operating room, Jaime had been so fond of exuding when Brienne had first met him. 

He had also become Brienne’s favorite attending to work with. 

“Should I be worried? Is my job in peril?”

“If I say yes, would you return sooner than you originally intended?”

Jaime gave her a small, almost pained chuckle which made Brienne regret her question. It had been meant as a jest; she should have known she would not have been able to pull it off as nonchalant as she had wished. 

“I can’t. You know that.”

It was an opening, the first one they had allowed themselves ever since Brienne had returned to KL. So they were met with a choice: to tread through uncharted and dangerous territory, or go back to the safety of almost indifferent conversation. 

“How’s everything going over there? Tyrion hasn’t murdered Cersei yet, has he?” Brienne chose the former. 

Jaime released a breath in relief, one which Brienne was able to clearly hear, making the sudden added weight she had gathered on her shoulders, disappear. They would be fine, they would be able to move past whatever it was they had managed to destroy. They were friends, above everything else. 

“No, though not for lack of initiative.”

Her laugh was glorious and it made Jaime grin as he had not done so in weeks. He missed her, missed the ease with which they would converse before their world had been turned upside down. For weeks he had followed her lead, talking only about the subjects she would broach or suggest. But he had desperately been wishing for more. 

“The children have asked about you. Tommen has threatened to not talk to me for a week if I don’t get him a phone call with you within the next few days.”

“I’d love to talk to them. I found my old fencing pictures, safely tucked inside my first anatomy book, and thought of scanning them over to Myrcella.”

They would be fine. 

And they were. Their conversations slowly but surely morphed back into what they used to be; back before Tywin and Casterly and Biter. 

She never did get to tell him just how bad things had gotten at KLG; but she did call him to complain about Hyle stealing a procedure from her, and to inform when Margaery had been granted a surgery she had been pinning for, for  _ days _ . 

Jaime was smart, smarter than people gave him credit for; Brienne trusted he would be able to read past her words and into her strained voice and hesitant answers whenever he asked about her days at KLG. 

Jaime knew, had known for some time, that she had unfairly received the blows from his actions and mistakes. And it was during those phone calls, when her voice sounded tired and frustrated, when she diverted the subject to one of Myrcella or Tyrion, when Jaime cursed his father and family the most for keeping him miles away from her. 

\----------

Myrcella’s call came as a surprise. 

Brienne had been inside the operating room, with Marbrand teasing her about something Jaime had once said, and Sandor standing quietly beside her. Both surgeons had raised their eyebrows as the soft melody had filled the OR.

The phone hadn’t rung again during the entire procedure, but the sweet melody had made Brienne curious and had made her hurry out into the locker rooms. 

Myrcella’s name had flashed up on her screen and Brienne had almost let go of her phone. 

The girl had never called before. Their interactions had usually consisted of brief texts, which mostly included pictures of both fencing. 

“Brienne?” The girl answered. Brienne could hear rustling in the background, which instantly made her wonder if Jaime was anywhere near the girl, and if she should have checked with him before returning his daughter’s call. 

“I’m sorry for not picking up, I was in surgery.”

“Oh, don’t worry, uncle Jaime told me there was a possibility of that happening if I ever called you.” 

_ So Jaime knows about this? _

“Has uncle Jaime ever told you about the Maiden’s Tourney?” Myrcella proceeded to ask, not bothering with false pleasantries for which Brienne felt more than grateful for. 

Jaime had never mentioned the tourney, but Brienne was well acquainted with it. A small, and elite event held in King’s Landing, usually right before the Long Night festivities began. It had been created in honor of the first warrior maiden to have existed; a hero of the Long Night whose name had been lost to history, but whose figure lived on. The tourney was one named after a woman but which allowed male and female competitors to spar against the other. Brienne had always wanted to compete in it, but had never saved enough to afford the travel and expenses which her trainers and school would not cover. 

“I know about it. I never competed in it though, we could never afford it.”

“Oh, well I  _ was _ hoping for advice, but that’s not the real reason for my call.”

That spiked Brienne’s interest. “Oh, alright.”

“I’ve made the cut; uncle Jaime encouraged me to try and push for it and I did it!”

It was an impressive feat, yet one which Brienne did not doubt. Myrcella may have had her mother’s beauty, but she possessed her father’s stubbornness and determination. 

“That’s amazing! It’s a highly respectable platform.”

“Yes, and I’ll be going back to KL for it, which is probably the best part of the entire thing.”

Brienne knew the children missed the city, Jaime had told her as much. Brienne couldn’t help the small ache in her chest as she listened to the young teen rant about all the things she wished to see once she got back home. 

“Do you think I could stay with you? I know you’re a resident, and I know you’re not- I mean, uncle Jaime did say- but if you’re not-”

_ Wait. What?  _

“You want to stay with  _ me _ ?” Brienne couldn’t hide the incredulence from her voice. 

“Uncle Jaime said I shouldn’t bother you with this, that you work odd hours; but it’s just for two nights. I thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.” Brienne’s head spun. 

“Me?” She tried again, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that a fourteen year-old wanted to spend time with her. Not just any fourteen year-old, Jaime and Cersei’s. 

_ Wait _ . 

“Does your mother know about this phone call?”

“No, and neither does uncle Jaime. They’ve been getting along fine -for once, and I didn’t want to-” The girl paused, Brienne could picture her gathering up the courage she needed to continue pleading her case. “Look, I’m the only one in my class who’s going; the only other boy who got chosen is two years younger than me, and I don’t know him. Mom- mom can’t make the trip, and uncle Tyrion insists uncle Jaime can’t leave. They were plotting on sending me over to cousin Lancel’s, but I don’t  _ like _ Lancel; he’s snotty and weird, and asks far too many questions.  _ You _ don’t, and I like you; and uncle Jaime does too. Please.”

She was going to have to tell Jaime; there wasn’t anything Myrcella could say that would convince Brienne of not letting the man know his daughter was calling  _ her _ for asylum. 

“I’ll have to tell your _ da _ -uncle.” Brienne didn’t really know much about Myrcella, expect the odd tid and bit, but for some reason she could clearly picture the grin on the girl’s face; almost catlike, and so like her father’s the thought of it made Brienne’s heart swell. 

“I’ll text you the dates.”

\----------

Brienne got home later than she would have liked after a thirty-two hour shift; with her shoulders tense from exhaustion and from having had to deal with Hyle for the better part of her morning. 

Hunt had taken to avoiding Brienne around the halls of KLG. The second-year still carried his last meeting with Jaime fresh on his mind; that and the fact Brienne had once threatened with exposing his little escapade with one of the nursing students to Stoneheart if he ever insulted her again, made Hyle weary of encountering her in the halls. 

But they hadn’t been able to escape each other during that day, as Brienne had been asked to scrub in during a particular difficult cholecystectomy, stepping in for one of the interns. 

It had been Hyle’s procedure and it had been going badly. Brienne never openly scolded him for the simple mistakes he seemed to have made while performing the surgery, but nonetheless Hyle had felt insulted and had proceeded to verbally offend Brienne through the rest of it. 

So she was tired, and irritated, and desperately longed for her bed and maybe a cup of coffee. 

She had not expected to find Renly sitting in the middle of their living room, sorting his entire closet into five carefully labeled boxes. 

“What are you doing? And why are you doing it in the middle of the afternoon?”

Her friend stood from where he had been sitting, a meek smile on his face which Brienne had only ever seen once before; when he had told her about Loras, way back during her first year of university. 

“You’re moving out.” 

“No, don’t give me that face. Yes, I’m moving, and yes I know that I still have a month to go until I finish my residency; but I’ve decided I’m going to start shipping my things over to Oldtown beforehand.”

Oldtown. The Citadel. Loras. It always came down to Loras. 

“And were you planning on telling me about this? I can’t afford this place on my own, you know that; you know how much I make!”

Brienne was too tired for this; her brain already wired and sizzling with unexpressed anger from having spent the past hours dodging Hunt’s slurs. 

Renly did look apologetic, but his blue eyes and handsome face somehow only served to irritate her further. “I was going to tell you today, but it got late and I figured it couldn’t hurt to get an early start. And don’t worry about the money, I already have a candidate for you to share this-”

“No first-years, Renly.”

“I would-”

“No, it’s- I’m-” she was breaking, she could feel it.  _ Gods _ , if only Jaime could see her, he would most likely scold her for allowing herself to even get to this point. Gods, what she wouldn’t have given to have him near. 

“Brienne,” Renly tried, but failed to grasp his friend’s attention. It was a rare sight, Brienne losing control. She had always been the calm to his storm, the voice of reason to his jaunty personality. He had never seen her eyes as blue, as wild, as untamed as they looked in that moment. She looked like a storm, powerful and magnificent. 

“I need sleep, I need-”  _ Jaime, I need Jaime. _

She never finished her sentence. 

\-----------

Hyle. Stoneheart. Jaime. Myrcella. Doran on bed 511. They all came to her during her nights, haunting her, reminding her of the whirlwind and misfortune her resident life had somehow become. 

Brienne would have never thought that only a month before she finally became a fourth-year surgical resident she would feel even worse than she did on those first few weeks as a first-year. 

She was getting exhausted; between maneuvering through her every day work, while trying to remain oblivious to the sneers and insults thrown her way and whispered behind her back; there were only so many times a day she could tolerate Hyle calling her a whore or Reed mockingly calling her a Lannister. It was cruel and unjust and Brienne could hardly believe herself counting the days until she would be able to leave Reed and Bear behind. 

The worst thing of all was the fact that she couldn’t even use the time spent inside an Operating Room as a mean to escape, for she was granted so little time inside them she never did manage to lose herself in the thrill of the procedures. 

Brienne looked outside her room, towards where Renly’s almost empty room greeted her. 

She would be a fourth-year in a month. Myrcella was set to arrive in KL in less than a week. Doran on 511 was going to receive a liver transplant in less than two days. Jaime still had no idea when he would return. 

Different preoccupations, and most things she had little to no control over. 

_ Doran, I can fight for Doran.  _

She was still in the run to assist during that procedure, with only Sandor as her real competition. Meribrand was to be the head surgeon and one of the few who had not become prejudiced towards her or her relationship with Jaime. 

She could do this. She was born to do this. 

_ ‘You’re the best one in there’. _

She shook his voice from her mind. She could do this, she could earn her place inside that OR.

She did. 

\-------------------

Myrcella’s arrival was supposed to have been a cathartic occurrence, one which should have threaten to unbalance Brienne’s life more than it already was. 

It wasn’t. 

The girl looked taller than when Brienne had last seen her, shyer too; but she still smiled prettily and still held a gaze so alike Jaime’s, it felt almost natural to embrace the girl on her arrival to KL.

Myrcella was calm, observant and truly did carry the weight of her family on her small shoulders. Brienne felt a sudden compassion for the girl surge within her. 

Myrcella served to become Brienne’s insider to the things Jaime had been leaving out from their almost daily conversations. From the girl, Brienne ended up learning about Tommen’s sudden interest in cop shows and felines, and about Tyrion’s new/old relationship with Tysha. For the entire day, the girl avoided brushing the topic of her mother. 

Brienne did not know how to feel about the girl’s avoidance. 

When the time came, Brienne couldn’t go to watch Myrcella compete, but was granted a full recap of the entire experience once she had picked the girl up from the arena. 

Myrcella chatted amicably and lighter than she had ever conversed with Brienne. Still running with adrenaline and a hefty dose of serotonin from winning both her bouts, Myrcella forgot all about her self-imposed censorship and proceeded to inform Brienne of her mother’s condition. 

Brienne listened with attentive ears and with an upset stomach, which only got queasier as the girl continued to divulge on the fact Cersei had been spending more and more time with them, Jaime included. 

“It’s been nice.” She finally ended, a small but wistful smile on her lips. 

“I’m sure this will make her proud, even if she’s not a fan of swords and fencing, every mother should be proud whenever a child accomplishes something.”

“I guess. You father always did support you, right? Since your mother…” The teen hesitated.

Brienne gave her a smile as she opened the door to the apartment, now truly almost vacant as Renly had finished shipping almost all of the furnishing just last week. 

Myrcella hadn’t seemed to mind, and enjoyed prancing around the few scattered boxes which Renly was still keeping with him until  _ he _ moved. 

“Yes. He still does. Even if that means he doesn’t see me as much as he would want to.”

She hadn’t seen her father in almost a year.

“I’ll miss mom when I have to leave for University, but I’m sure I’ll miss Tommen more.”

Breinne didn’t even bother to ask about Joffrey. The only time Brienne had ever actually seen the eldest Baratheon child had been from afar. It had been a cruel sight to witness, the oldest golden boy raising his hand at his younger sibling, calling her a slut while he had given her a slap which had frightened Tommen enough to scream for help. 

“It’ll not be for a couple years. You have time.”

The teen nodded as she stood in front of one of Brienne’s walls in the apartment. A wall filled with various photos and awards she had deemed important enough to hang on display in the small living room. 

“Yes.” She whispered, voice carrying an almost absentminded quality about it which made Breinne curious.

“Do you love my father?”

Brienne dropped the mug she had been taking out and stammered as she processed the depthness of the question. Myrcella had never called Jaime anything other than uncle, even if the girl was well aware of her parentage. Brienne had always assumed it being a conscious decision. She had also never been upfrontly  _ asked _ about her feelings towards Jaime. They had been implied, and yes, she had once confessed them over a tearful conversation. But not once after having returned from Casterly Rock had anyone dared to ask her. 

Did she love him? Had she stopped loving him? 

Of course. She didn’t think she could ever stop. 

Brienne could not lie to save her life, and much less to calm and steady emerald eyes. 

“Yes. I have for some time now.”

“So having not seen him in months hasn’t changed how you felt back at Casterly?”

Brienne felt judged, but for the first time in months, she felt as if she were being given a fair trial. She was being given a chance to defend her stance. 

“No. I don’t think I can stop loving him. Your f-f-father has- he’s-”

Myrcella gave Brienne a small smile before returning her gaze to the photograph she had been eyeing before having uttered her question. 

Brienne squinted her eyes in order to see the picture which had enraptured the teen’s attention. As she took in her giant frame and Jaime’s own lithe body, she instantly knew what the girl had seen, and understood what had prompted the inquiry. 

It was a picture she had not wanted, yet it had been gifted to her by Jaime on her last nameday. A photograph of both of them inside the OR; with sweat on their brows and disheveled appearances, bags under their eyes and a paleness of face which could only be attributed to not having slept in more than twenty-four hours. 

It had been taken during her last months as a second-year. Margaery had gone through a photography phase and had snapped away almost a thousand pictures in just a couple of days. Brienne and Jaime had received the morning shift inside the operating room on that day, both busy repairing a man’s spleen and liver. Margaery had snapped the picture before having scrubbed down to relay Brienne. 

It was a pretty good picture; it captured the atmosphere of an emergency operating room to an almost perfection: from the background monitor, to the sweat on the surgeons’ brows, to the frantic look of desperation on the nurse’s face. What made the piece mesmerizing was the intensity behind the surgeons’ gazes; blue and green meeting across a battlefield; tired, weary and completely trusting of the other. 

“Don’t worry. About anything.”

It was cryptic, but it somehow managed to relax Brienne enough to allow herself to breathe. 

\-------

“Happy Long Night, Jaime.”

“How much would you hate me if I told you I miss you.”

She could never hate him, but her heart did ache whenever he fed her unnecessary hope. 

“A little.”

“It’s still true.”

“I miss you, too.”

Jaime groaned. “Ok, I get it. Yes, you can hate me. Myrcella is mouthing hello at you, by the way.”

Brienne smiled into her phone as she sipped a bit of her now cold coffee. “Say hello back and that I do hope my gift reaches her before the holiday is over.”

“I still insist you shouldn’t have gotten her anything in the first place; but your message will be conveyed. Anyway, you’ve kept me on the edge of my seat long enough. Tell me all about the new residents whom you will torture and all about how Jon eloped with Ygritte.”

Brienne laughed, enjoying how even from miles away he could still make her home feel warmer whenever he called. 

It had been eerily chilly ever since Renly had moved out four days ago. 

No new roommate would arrive, not for a while. Brienne had budgeted her savings and had organized her payments in order to not go bankrupt for at least another 4 months; and so the apartment would be left to her use and hers alone. 

She had not minded, until her friend had hugged her goodbye and had left Brienne feeling unjustly cold for the entire night. The first thing she had done after that had been buying more furniture. 

“I won’t be torturing anybody. Hyle will be in charge of the first-years.”

“Hyle?” He croaked, but Brienne ignored him. 

“And  _ Margaery _ will be in charge of Hyle.”

His laugh felt melodious and Brienne chose to ignore the pang of longing it spurged within her. 

“Oh gods woman, you’re far more clever than you give yourself credit for.”

“I’m smart enough.”

“Oh I know you know you’re smart. You’re also clever, and people need to remember that.  _ You _ need to remember that.”

“Well you need to remember you’re smarter than you let on.”

“Now I know you truly miss me if you’re complimenting me without hesitation.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Both laughed, both sighed, both wished for nothing more than to be able to see the other. 

“Jaime...” she started, but could not find the words to complete whatever it was she wished to tell him. 

“Soon.” Brienne’s breath hitched. It was the first time he had ever given her a time frame, as vague as it was. “There’s this thing- It’s almost- And I-”

“Jaime,” she tried. 

“No, listen. It’s been months, hell it’s almost been a year since I’ve been swallowing this back.”

“Jaime!” She stopped him. She knew his tone, knew what his rambles could lead to. She wasn’t prepared to hear it, not when for the first time since she had returned from Casterly, things at work weren’t looking as dire as they had been. 

“What?” He questioned, concern in his voice. 

Brienne sighed. “Not tonight. Please, just- just give me tonight.”

“Soon, Brienne. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

\-------------------

Soon came quicker than Brienne had expected. 

Marbrand was trying to get her to confess to the first time she had ever messed up during a procedure. Brienne was firm on not giving out an answer, furiously typing away the new resident’s rotations and trying her hardest not to blush. 

“I know you almost never venture outside norms and standards, but there must have been one time when you must have thought ‘huh, if only I go left instead of right’.”

“No.” Was her curt reply, finally understanding the reason for the redhead and Jaime's close friendship. They shared the same mocking sense of humor. 

“Seven help me, even Sandor is more talkative than this.”

“A cow is usually more talkative than Brienne when she’s propped in front of a computer.”

His voice, loud and clear, with no static or ruffling. 

Brienne turned, almost falling as she frantically stood from the chair where she had been sitting. She saw more than heard Jaime’s chuckle and Marbrand’s own given laugh. 

Perplexed, she couldn’t move. She gaped and blinked and observed how people around Jaime shook his hand or gave him half an embrace, all turning over to steal a quick glance at her as they did so. 

“Brienne?”

_ Arrogant, smug, handsome, infuriating,  _ ass _ . _

“Brienne?” He tried again, on seeing she had not moved from where she had clumsily stood. 

Her eyes were harboring a storm which could end one of two ways; either she ran to embrace him or she hit him. For once, Jaime found himself unable to read her. 

They had talked yesterday, he had gone on and on about Tyrion having stolen the kids for the evening and having end up stuck with Cersei for the better part of it. He had prodded for information on her new shift and had tried to persuade her to accept Sandor as her roommate. 

The conversation had been light, warm, familiar. He had not once given the implication he would find himself in King’s Landing during the next day, standing tall and proud, looking like some sort of god. 

_ Gods _ .

She took three steps towards him, her blue eyes never leaving his face. “You’re back?”

His grin was unrestrained, as if he had been guarding a secret and was finally free of the burden of having to carry it around. “I’m back.”

She hit him, and then proceeded to wrap her arms around him in a quick but genuine embrace. 

She took a step back almost immediately, enjoying how she had managed to startle Jaime enough for him to not give any quips or comments on her sudden flushed appearance. 

“Do I need to grovel for you to forgive my deception?”

Brienne scowled, but her eyes exuberated a joy which had started brewing the second she had laid eyes on him and had exponentially grown the second after he had confirmed his return. “I haven’t decided yet.”

She heard Marbrand chuckle before instructing one of the first-years to scram and get back to work. 

It was true. She hadn’t decided if he was to be forgiven for not telling her he would be returning; for having used his name to grant her those five days of leave; for having forced her to deal with a myriad of -mostly drunk- Lannisters without warning or help; for leaving and not visiting for  _ six _ months. But even if she was angry and confused and could do with a spar, Brienne felt  _ happy _ . 

“Addam, permission to steal Tarth here for whatever comes through the ER doors today.”

“You’re her attending, I’m just the sucker who had to put up with her unrelenting morals for six months.” 

Both surgeons shot the redhead a glare which more than intimidate, made Addam give out a hearty laugh. He proceeded to slap his friend on the shoulder as he made his way away from the resident’s station. “Glad you’re back, Lannister.”

\---------

It was tough, people still sent weary glances her way and even threw judgemental stares towards Jaime, now that they both pranced through the halls together. 

Brienne could tell he noticed; she could also tell he was bothered by it, yet he restrained to give comment or to make a scene out of them. Brienne was grateful for it. It seemed he had finally learned to control his impulses. 

Or maybe he truly was oblivious to the stares and snickering comments. For as they got prepped for surgery he continued to try and tease her. Brienne, still in a somewhat state of shock from having him standing right there next to her, couldn’t bring up a proper reply to any of his jests. 

The easiness with which they slipped back into their old routine was almost frightening. Even as Brienne’s mind whirled and Jaime’s tentatively tried to coax her out of her incredulous state, it was as if no time had passed since their last surgery together. 

Their eyes met for a brief second before Brienne took the lead and commenced the procedure. 

“You’re stiff.” He supplied as he tried to ligate a vessel. 

Brienne scoffed. “I’m fine. You’re rusty.”

Jaime scoffed. “I’m not. Brienne-”

“Yeah,” she moved her Kelly clamp. 

A couple of more minutes passed, both silent as they tried to stop the patient’s spleen from bleeding. Brienne broke said silence as a curse ripped from her, strong and unhesitating; the magnitude of it startling Jaime.

“Fuck!” She exclaimed. “We’re going to have to take it out.” She finished, calling for more clamps and waiting for Jaime to back her up. He didn’t say a word, prompting her to raise her stare towards him. His green eyes fixed on her with such an intense look, it made Brienne shiver. 

“Doctor Lannister?”

“Where do you want me?”

Brienne felt her heart skip, and her skin get warm. She could feel her blush spreading from her face to her toes. 

“Follow my lead.” She managed to croak out. 

“Always.”

She gulped, but resumed her work, glad in knowing he still could read every flinch, every hesitancy with as much precision as she could read his. 

“Have you made up your mind, then?” Jaime asked as they finally began closing the patient up; both tired, but still reeling with exhilaration from having just saved someone’s life. 

“About what?”

“Groveling. Just how much am I going to have to do?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh come on!”

“Cut. A warning would have been nice. It wasn’t as if we’d spoken yesterday, right?”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you.”

“Lying doesn’t become you.”

“Lannisters lie.”

“Adult Lannisters, maybe. I find Myrcella and Tommen quite honest and probably better company.”

“That’s not fair, those two adore you and worship the ground you walk on.”

“Oh, piss off. Cut. I’ll let you know what I decide.”

“They’re here, by the way; in King's Landing -both of them.”

The conversation’s tone suddenly morphed. The air around them became thicker, his voice quieter, raw and exposed. It made Brienne lock eyes with him again, her stance relaxing upon taking him in; expectant of her reaction. 

“The kids?”

“Yes. We -Tyrion and I- managed to successfully transfer the Lannister directorship to Kevan weeks ago. I would have come back sooner, but Tyrion managed to convince me to try and push for legal guardianship, at least Myrcella’s. I did. It’s still in process, lawyers and court shit that I don’t really understand, which is why I have my brother. Anyway, he told me the petition’s been approved and once I told Myrcella, she insisted on coming back here with me, and somehow convinced Tommen of following her.”

“Tommen loves you.”

He smiled, sweetly and graciously; it made Brienne’s heart ache and mind whirl. She was still angry with him. 

“Tyrion said the same.”

Cersei’s name remained unspoken, but it lingered in the air.

“She raged, of course. She cursed me and Tyrion, but somehow Myrcella managed to calm her down just enough for her to not murder us. I still don’t know how she did it. She also convinced Joffrey to come back home, little cunt that he is.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Same place. I’ve crammed them both in there with the promise of getting something bigger in less than a month. So if I start going mad, please remind me I should not make promises I don’t know how I’ll be able to fulfill.”

“You don’t.”

“You taught me that, you know?”

rienne’s breath hitched as she finally smoothed out the patient’s skin, switching drivers as they finally began closing up their last layer. 

“I’ll finish up, you can-” She stammered, feeling ridiculous and as awkward as people mocked her out to be. 

He took the driver from her hand. “A fourth-year shouldn’t do an intern’s work. I need the practise anyway; I  _ am _ a bit rusty.” His smirk was sly, handsome and so familiar Brienne couldn’t help it, she gave him a grin of her own in return. 

\-------

The Dragon Pit was almost empty, and for that Brienne felt grateful. She needed to clear her head. For the better part of her day she had been itching to beat something up; her excess energy constantly building up the more time she spent alongside Jaime. 

Half of the time she swore she would drop everything and kiss him; the other half she grew scared she would truly lose her self-control and punch him. Neither of the options had been viable, not while inside the walls of KLG, not while under the scrutinous gazes of their friends and coworkers. 

Not bothering to attempt at casual conversation with the only other person roaming around the boxing ring, Brienne taped up her hands and warmed her muscles before laying a fierce punch to her favorite bag. 

She didn’t know why she was angry with him. She had no right. They hadn’t ever talked. They hadn't ever confessed to anything. They hadn’t even- Brienne huffed as she took another swing, the punch landing with an even greater force than she had calculated; the bag swinging a little to the side, almost tilting her off balance. 

It was frustrating. How she could feel such love and happiness on having seen him again after so long; yet how the mere sight of him had made the past months feel real and tangible and they had suddenly  _ hurt _ . 

Margaery would have probably called it a catharsis. Sansa would have reminded her it never did serve anyone well to bottle up any kind of emotions for they were bound to eventually come back to hurt them. 

Brienne hit the bag again, this time expecting the slight deviation and efficiently counter attacking the backswing. 

It felt as if the six months of teases, of insults, of heartbreak hit her all at once; combined with utter joy and love from having him close again. 

She was pathetic, and she was sure that was Sandor’s voice inside her head reminding her of her pitifulness. 

She hit the bag again with a purposeful grunt. 

“You’ll tear it down.”

Jaime stood still, his body resting against the doorframe, carefully watching her as she gave another hit. 

He looked -even better than he had that morning. In loose sweatpants and a black tank top, beard now more scruff than beard, and hair still long enough for it to give a gentle curl near his jawline. 

She looked riled up; sweating from her workout, her face red from exercise, her hands strong and almost bruised from the amount of force she was using. She was dressed in her own pair of loose sweats, deep crimson ones he knew to have been a gift from his daughter. Her well worn cobalt sportabra made her eyes stand out and Jaime found himself drowning in the sea of them; a raging storm brewing behind them. But he didn’t mind, for he had missed staring into such depthness. He had almost found himself drowning on dry land, so used to the sea he had become. 

She was angry, that much he had gathered. He truly did not understand the full extent of her emotions, yet he knew he should not question her motivations for them. So used to always dismissing her own feelings, Jaime couldn’t help but revel in being witness to the display and owning of such sentiments. 

“It will hold.”

“Imagining someone, or is that something that only helps  _ me _ when training?”

Brienne didn’t ignore his question, but did take her time organizing her thoughts before giving him an answer. 

Jaime observed her eyes, he could tell she was having an argument with herself. He wished for nothing more than to kiss away the creases in her forehead, to reassure her of his affections. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. He had made a promise to himself, and he wouldn’t dare touch her without first telling her exactly what he should have almost a year ago. 

“No. But not today.” She answered and hit the bag again, her grunt making him give her half a smile. 

He walked towards the bench, leaving his bag next to hers on the floor, enjoying watching how the red of it matched her pants. He never lost sight of her, finding it amusing how her face further reddened every time she flicked her gaze over to him, just to find him determined in observing her. 

He had not known she would be at The Dragon Pit, but having caught a glance of her blonde head, towering over most furnishings, Jaime couldn’t have helped but feel as if their meeting had been destined. 

It had been nothing short of extraordinary, the feeling of being back inside an OR, Brienne by his side, a scalpel in his hand. For months he had felt dead inside, and had finally been revived by a crooked smile and blotchy blush. 

It wasn’t really fair. She was already a sweating mess, while he still looked fresh off of a shower. The infuriating thought got her spirit going again and she double hit the bag, using her right foot to kick it one final time before it returned to its upright position. 

He shouldn’t have been turned on by the sight of someone who could very well give him a concussion, but gods he was. “Brienne-” He started, but got cut off. 

“No. Not like-” She stopped the swinging bag with one arm, as she used her other to gesture towards him, the movements bordering on becoming erratic. She was trying to reil in her feelings again. Jaime wished she wouldn’t, not with him, not with anyone. 

“Boxing ring,” she breathed out. 

“What?” Jaime questioned, standing up and going after her as she moved across the room towards where the ring lay. 

“Box, we box.”

“Well, that’s not fair; you have the advantage inside the ring. If you’re so desperate to fight me, at least consent to a spar on the mats.”

No, not when the potential for overbearing contact existed; not while her body hummed with adrenaline and he still looked like  _ -that _ .

“No. You want to fight, we box.”

He didn’t want to fight, he wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to bloody well beat some sense into her. 

Fine, maybe boxing would be best. At least the risk of getting pinned down by her was minimal. 

She was angry. If his previous assertment had ever been put in doubt inside Jaime’s mind, trying to deflect her punches assured him of his previous statement. She was angry and she had no idea how to manage it. He couldn’t blame her, he felt angry at himself too and still had no idea how to mend the situation. 

He had been feeling angry for years, until she had waltzed into his life; stumbling through charts and hospital beds, crooked smile and beautiful eyes, calm presence and far too noble heart. 

“Gods, you’re angry.”

“No, you’re just slow.”

“I know I’m old, you don’t have to be boastful about it.”

She punched him again. Jaime huffed and tried to retaliate, but was blocked by her quick reflexes. 

“You’re angry; I can see it in your eyes and feel it in your punch.”

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”  _ Not when I can’t decide for myself.  _

“No. No one can, and no one should. You can feel anger and joy at the same time, you know. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

She huffed as she threw another punch, but did not manage to land it. 

“You can feel whatever the fuck you want,  _ resident _ , but  _ allow _ yourself to do so.” He landed a punch.

“You bloody used your name to get me five days of leave.  _ Five _ , Jaime!” She threw a punch, it landed on his chest as Jaime’s eyes went wide. 

“You punched Hyle,  _ and _ Ronnet,  _ and _ Hoat.” She threw another, Jaime deflected. 

“You kissed me inside the resident’s on-call room,” another, “and after Biter,” another, “and in front of your family.” Tears had gathered in her eyes; Jaime still dodged her thrown punches, only effectively receiving the last blow, square in his chest, making him huff and try his own luck by throwing one her way. 

Brienne dodged his gloved hand, her head muffled but not enough to lose concentration. 

“You took care of me when I told you not to. You called me every day while I was at Dorne. You threw Aemon out of his own surgery for being an ass. You never thought of the consequences. The stupid sneers, the judgmental stares, the questioning glances.  _ You _ of all people who knew what it felt like to have a carefully built reputation  _ destroyed _ . You left without saying goodbye. You just  _ left _ .”

She was crying and her vision finally blurred enough for her to misthrow and allow Jaime to grab on to her arm. 

“Brienne-”

“No! You wanted  _ this _ , well now you’ve got it. I am angry, I am angry because I can’t stop loving you, even if you hurt me, even if I hurt you. I tried and failed miserably at not loving you. Seven help me, but I am yours, completely, fully and I don’t know what to do about this. Because you’re  _ you _ ; arrogant, conceited, kind, just, caring; and I’m me! Just a silly girl from the Stormlands who wanted a chance at being a good enough surgeon who happened to fall in love with the best of them.”

“Do you really not know your own value? Even after all this time?” Now  _ he _ growled, his hold on her loosening in sharp contrast to his own voice which only got rougher. “You’re worth the entire fucking country ten times over, you hear? Your tenacity, your stubbornness, your kindness, your honesty and bravery.”

Brienne’s breath hitched and she let out a small sob, one she had been trying to swallow ever since he had called her name. His hand came to cradle her face, as it had done so many times before; his hand lightly caressing her scarred cheek, his green eyes quickly flashing with fear, the ghost of almost having lost her still haunting him at odd times. 

“I’m sorry for leaving you here. Gods, I know you didn’t deserve any of that, but I’m selfish; I've always been selfish and when it comes to you I have no filter, no bar. You’re the most precious being in my life, my best friend, my anchor. I’ve given my soul to you completly, you understand, and it scares the fuck out of me, so I do stupid things and will probably do a hundred more, but I need you to tell me when I do, just like I will tell you when you’re being stubborn, irrationally loyal and unjustly kind.”

Brienne’s tears continued as Jaime’s forehead touched her own, her vision granting her enough to see tears gathering in his own orbs, green and vulnerable and  _ hers _ . 

“I love you, you stubborn girl. Can’t you see that? I’m yours, completely and irrevocably. I’m yours, if you’ll have me; because Seven help me, but the gods know I don’t deserve you.”

“You can’t tell me who I deserve, either.”

He chuckled, lovingly caressing her cheek, his right hand soft and strong, without a single twitch given; all physical evidence of that fateful event erased. 

“I’m ridiculously in love you.” 

“Good, because so am I.”

He stood to finally kiss her, passionately and without holding anything back; conveying all of his exposed love for her in the single act. She deserved so much more than him, but he would give her all of himself; mind, body, soul. 

Brienne kissed him back with equal passion and adoration; her lips fumbled and teeth sometimes bumped, but Jaime’s grins gave her the confidence to not care and continue on; relishing in the feel of him against her, of getting to hold him without the fear of misinterpretation. 

They must have looked odd, with her being larger than he was, and with him having to stand on his toes in order to fully reach her, but Brienne found herself honestly not minding; not as long as he continued to shower her face with tender kisses as he whispered his love over and over; not while his hand softly brushed her abdomen in slow tantalizing circles which almost made her knees bend over. 

She found his mouth again, surprising Jaime and ripping a moan from deep within him. She was going to kill him, of that he was now certain, but gods if he wouldn’t die a happy death. 

They continued on kissing, enjoying each other’s radiating heat until a shout from one of the Pit’s management employees, startled them apart; Brienne appreciating the fact both harbored similar blushes. 

“Please tell me you still have no roommate.” His wanton tone made Brienne’s insides shift and squirm with a want of her own, mixed in with an anxiety she did not mind feeling. 

“No, the place is still solely mine.”

Jaime growled as he leaned in for a kiss, Brienne quickly putting a stop to it before it could escalate into something harder to manage while they were still inside The Dragon Pit. 

“What about your children? Aren’t they expecting you home? It’s almost eleven.”

“Gods, see this is one of those times I curse your righteousness.”

Brienne gave a small chuckle, appreciating his apparent frustration. She never would have imagined having that effect on anyone, much less someone like Jaime Lannister. 

“It’ll still be empty tomorrow, and the day after that. I can promise you as much.” She hadn’t meant to sound as flustered or as salacious as she did, but the look of pure desire which she could read brewing behind his emerald eyes, made the slip up worth it. 

“Seven, you’re going to kill me. Come on, before I decide to do something stupid.”

He took her hand in his and launched her forwards for another quick kiss, this one softer than the one he’d given her before; a whispered ‘I love you’ falling from his lips as he let her go, making Brienne feel warmer than she had in weeks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story sprung to life within the walls of my own KLG when Jaime and Brienne wouldn't even leave my mind during working hours. 
> 
> I had been itching and trying to write something like this for YEARS and I can honestly admit I am proud I finally did it. 
> 
> I posted the first chapter of this when I got the news I had passed my residency exam, finally gathering the courage to post my most selfish and self-indulgent (Not to mention personal) story to date. 
> 
> So I thank you all again, for reading. And don't fret, I do swear there's a nice little (Not that little) epilogue.


	11. epilogue: i want you at the end of my life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> epilogue - I follow them around for a couple of more years.
> 
> Or: a glimpse into the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To say I am grateful is the understatement of the year. 
> 
> THANK YOU. Thank you to every single soul who has read, liked, commented on this. Like I've said, I wrote this almost entirely for me, and posted it on an almost estatic whim. The fact people have liked it and have read it and followed it is beyond amazing and I still can't quite believe it myself. 
> 
> This is the longest story I have ever written, and it was such a joy and exhaustion and thrill to type. I wrote most of it while I finished studying and eventualy waited for my results of the National Residency Exam. I posted the first chapter when I found out I passed said exam and now I post the last bit right after I find out I have been accepted into the Hospital I wanted (my own KLG) to do my residency at. 
> 
> This little piece will forever hold a lot of meaning for me. So honestly, THANK YOU ALL for taking time to read about surgeries and pinning and idiots being idiots. 
> 
> As always, mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Chapter title from Is That Alright? from A Star is Born

Being a fourth-year resident had its perks, Brienne had always been aware of said fact. Even back when she had merely been a student doing her various rotations around Tarth’s hospitals and clinics, she had taken notice of how the eldest of the residents would enjoy certain privileges -like  _ sleeping _ . 

Yet, she had never dared to imagine her fourth-year would ever feel as  _ liberating _ as it ended up becoming. 

With Jaime back on days and Addam staying on as a swing, Brienne’s OR time finally returned to its normal and busy schedule. Both surgeons took the fourth-year under their wing and allowed her to be the primary surgeon for most of their procedures, granting her the freedom and trust to handle the entire management of their patients on her own. It was a decent arrangement and Brienne thrived with being allowed to both assist during the more complicated procedures and lead during ones she had already mastered. 

She rarely saw any of the newer residents, a fact she ended up being grateful towards, for if Brienne had thought the stares and whispers had been tedious beforehand -once she had actually taken Jaime Lannister home, they became ten times worse. The only reason Brienne found herself not minding the offbeat and tiresome comments being the fact they at least now carried some kind of truth in them. 

They tried to maintain their relationship as casual and habitual as they could during work hours. Of course their efforts barely lasted a week, when Jon -out of all people- found them inside the locker rooms; both having been sleeping after an exhausting shift, with their limbs tangled and hands still intertwined. 

Getting called into Stoneheart’s office was a trial, one neither Brienne nor Jaime came out unscatched from. The woman was as hard as nails and as cold as ice; her emotions barely making themselves known with the slightest purse of lips, or narrowing of eyes. 

Jaime’s job got threatened and Brienne’s residency was put on probation.

With a sigh, Brienne ended up consenting to Jaime calling in a favor from his uncle and brother. Brienne made Jaime promise they would never use such power again, to which after receiving a lengthy sermon from Kevan and embarrassing taunts from Tyrion, Jaime gladly consented to. 

Their efforts ended up being fruitless and unnecessary, when upon arriving to work on the next day, Sandor Clegane stood in the middle of KLG’s surgical floor -Sansa Stark proudly standing next to him. Gruff looking as ever, with the same scowl, and same annoyed eyes; Sandor raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement as he took the gobsmacked pair in. 

Without much ceremony, Clegane announced he was starting at KLG, covering for Meribald while the older surgeon took some months off to go and visit some odd relations of his on some island. Or so the young surgeon claimed. 

If Sandor could be working as an attending while Stark still roamed the halls as a third-year, there was absolutely no compelling reason for either Jaime or Brienne to be threatened out of KLG. 

They presented their case to Stoneheart once more, and could not help but sigh in relief as the woman glared at the two of them with far more contempt in her eyes than she had ever expressed towards either of them. With a reluctance which Brienne had not seen since Stoneheart had authorized her leave, the woman agreed to not condition either of their positions, so long as their performance did not falter. 

Being a fourth-year also meant her hours inside KLG impressively decreased to hours she would exclusively spend inside an OR, or doing early morning rounds with the second-years. Her night shifts were also reduced, now only having to stay overnight once per week instead of three. Brienne found herself better rested than she had been in  _ years _ , and with saved up energy she was quick to put to good use; either by eagerly taking Jaime to her bed, or by scrubbing in with Sandor inside one of Baelor’s private operating rooms. 

With the money she saved up from assisting Sandor at Baelor, Brienne managed to be able to pay her rent without the need of sharing the space with an unwanted presence. No one was more grateful of said achievement than Jaime, who revelled in making her moan and scream almost as much as he enjoyed crying out her name. 

So Brienne ended up with an apartment with an unused room. 

The extra room was quick to become claimed by Myrcella, who had once arrived at Brienne’s with a scowl on her face which had scared the life out of young surgeon for looking so much like Cersei’s. The girl had raged about Jaime’s incompetence on finding a decent place for the three of them to live in, and had thrown a tantrum which reminded Brienne that as much as the girl  _ looked _ like Cersei, Myrcella was all Jaime; with kind eyes and a soft heart -and a tendency for dramatics. 

Brienne had called Jaime that night to inform on the fact his daughter had decided to crash with her for the evening. Far less stressed and angry than Brienne had expected Jaime to have been, the man had thanked her for calling and had proceeded to confess Myrcella had indeed told him where she had been going, but had omitted the fact she hadn't planned on returning home. 

After having thought about it for the better part of their conversation, Brienne had finally suggested allowing Myrcella to use the extra room at her place. 

So the room slowly became filled with fencing blades, books, tourney trophies and eventually even kept an extra pair of scrubs Myrcella bought when she started asking her father to allow her to stand in on certain procedures. 

Jaime insisted the room be closed off every time he went over. Brienne hadn’t needed to be asked twice about it. 

The children had been the first to know about them; finding out about the change in their relationship on the very night it had happened. 

Jaime had indeed needed to get home, but had been reluctant in letting Brienne go so soon. So Brienne had been taken to his own apartment, larger than hers, but still not large enough to accomodate a grown man and two still growing teenagers. 

Brienne had gone red as she had come to the realization that neither of the teenagers gave a sound reaction when the reveal had been made. Myrcella had given Brienne a soft smile, reminiscent of the one she had given her back when the girl had stayed with her for The Maiden’s Tourney; while Tommen had just cocked his head to the side as if he had been trying to understand the fact they  _ hadn't _ been in a relationship before that day. 

Brienne hadn’t spent the night, but had been more than tempted to. 

Even if it was a well known fact, and even if they did spent most days ignoring sneers and eyerolls from co-workers and friends, they truly did try and moderate their displays of affection at work. Of course, that only meant they tried to not kiss or overly flirt (which Brienne truly had no problem with, seeing as she still couldn’t figure out how to properly  _ and _ intentionally flirt, going red more often than not whenever she did try). The teasing continued, the odd bickering increased and their smiles came easier, but nothing else was ever expressed. 

Their dates were simple; casual dinners after long shifts, staying in to watch old Ser Duncan films, going to watch Myrcella compete, sparring at The Dragon Pit. It had been the most natural thing in the world, to give in into the want, the simmering passion they each felt for the other. Brienne still hit him when he was an ass, and he still tried to coax her into talking when they did a procedure together. Everything had changed, and yet somehow it had all remained the same. 

The months passed, and people eventually did stop with the sneers, the judgmental stares and dismissive snorts. Even Hunt, Bear and Reed eventually came around. 

Brienne was glad to finally be able to rekindle her amicable relationship with her younger peers; while not precisely her greatest of friends, she had grown extremely fond of her two shift partners. 

She would have not minded Hyle’s continued hesitancy, for the man resumed his constant groveling and awkward trailing once he had realized neither she nor Jaime would severely damage his ego again. 

Jaime was convinced Hyle wanted to convince Brienne to start up her own clinic and hire him after finishing, seeing as the man would probably not be getting many recommendations from his teachers at KLG. 

Brienne scoffed at the idea, she hadn’t the money to buy her own apartment, much less open her own clinic. 

It was nearing the Long Night Holiday when Jaime surprised them all by saying he had finally found a place he liked well enough for them to live in and had gone ahead and bought it. 

The relief in the youngest of the party was palpable; even Brienne looked somewhat relieved for their sake. 

The new found peace lasted all but a few hours, until Jaime took Brienne aside and informed her the apartment was big enough for the  _ four _ of them. 

Brienne gawked, stammered and eventually ended up throwing what was left of her drink in his face. Jaime spit the liquid out, but did not move from his place, knowing she needed at least another minute until she regained her wits. She eventually did, apologizing for her reaction, but insisting she couldn’t move in with them, no matter how much she desperately wanted to. 

Selwyn Tarth’s health wasn’t great, and both Jaime and Brienne knew this and had known it for months. Brienne, now a fourth-year and about to finish her residency, had scheduled her vacation days so they coincided with that of The Long Night celebrations so she could go to Tarth for a long overdue visit to her father. 

Her plans had not included having Jaime and both Myrcella and Tommen make the trip with her, but all three insisted; and thus Brienne found herself being received by the warmth of her father’s embrace and the curt nod of his current companion, both carrying sly and affectionate smiles as they exchanged pleasantries with the three Lannisters. 

Her father took her aside one night, and more or less gave her his blessing to freely be with Jaime, and to remember to always keep her heart open to the possibility of more. Brienne wanted to rebuff his statement; but knowing her father’s heart would give out sooner than either would like, stopped Brienne from protesting and made her give her father an emotional, and understanding nod, before somehow finding herself confessing her heart out to him; as if she had been thirteen again and hopelessly crushing on Renly Baratheon. 

Jaime fell in love with Tarth, and Myrcella fell in love with Evenfall University. They stayed for the entire Holiday, enjoying the tranquility and the salty, fresh air of the island. 

For the last night of their vacation, Selwyn volunteered himself to take the teens out fishing, since Tommen hadn’t stop raving about the sport, and even Myrcella had been convinced of having to go out on a dingy at least once in her life. The Tarth’s family home was left to Brienne and Jaime, who had not had a single day to themselves during the entire trip and in consequence were exuding a frustrated energy even Tommen had picked up on. 

They spent most of it inside the guest room and even dared to venture into Brienne’s old room, finally breaking in Brienne’s the old twin bed. 

Both ended up with sprained backs after such endeavour, but neither cared. 

Breinne told him she wanted to come back home after she finished at KLG. Jaime nodded, understanding her desire to be closer to her father when his health was as delicate as it seemed. 

It was anticlimactic, for Brienne had even prepared a speech in order to convince him it would even be a good idea to take up a job at the Sapphire Clinic, and she told Jaime as much; to which he simply shrugged and stated he would just have to rent out the KL place for a little while longer and move to Tarth with her. 

Chaotic days followed, where Brienne grew restless inside the walls of KLG as her final day approached. She had been calling the hospital her home for four years; had grown so much as both a person and a surgeon within and because of those walls, and now she was about to let it go, to move on. 

Sandor called her an idiot every time tears gathered behind her eyes, but Brienne never minded. Sandor himself got eerily quiet when Brienne had informed him she would be leaving the Baelor Clinic and moving back home for an undetermined amount of time. 

On her last day as a resident, Jaime surprised her nearing the end of her shift, grabbing her from behind as she walked through one of the corridors; his mouth hot against her ear as he whispered seducing and lewd words, his voice low and wonton. 

Brienne turned red and tried to shake him off, knowing it would not take much coaxing from him for her to willingly submit her body to him. A quick look into his green orbs, clouded with an unrestricted lust which Brienne had only ever witnessed behind closed doors, made her own want incense and her knees start to weaken. She wet her lips and softly mewled as Jaime took a step towards her. 

Jaime grinned in triumph and gladly received her kiss, desperate and a bit angry at having made her break her pristine control, but eager and almost as wonton as he felt. 

He led them to the locker rooms, empty and waiting for them. He made her come with whispered promises and deft fingers as she tried to not scream. 

Afterwards, when Brienne questioned his motivations for risking his job, Jaime insisted she couldn’t leave KLG without at least having had one orgasm inside its walls. Brienne was certain her blush never fully receded for the rest of her shift. 

That night, after driving off the hospital’s grounds for the last time, with tears in her eyes and a sudden oppressive pain in her chest, she found herself almost absently arriving at his apartment. She spent the night over at his place, with her own apartment now being an echo of what it had been a year ago; empty, except for a few scattered boxes which carried most of the last four years of her life inside. 

She cried for most of the evening. Jaime held her, made her laugh, and dried her tears whenever they clouded her vision. 

She made love to him that night; slow, tantalizing, and making sure he knew just how much she loved him  _ and _ his family. It would be the only time they would ever touch inside those apartment walls. 

This time, they were only apart for a month, before Jaime arrived on the coast of her beloved island, teenagers on one side and suitcases on the other. 

Tarth was good to them, to  _ all _ of them. With Brienne’s constant insistence and support, Jaime gathered enough confidence to ask for a job at Evenfall University as a professor to first and second year students. He would go and teach in the mornings and spend his evenings bickering and making Brienne laugh inside the walls of different private operating rooms all over the island. 

For two years they lived in an almost bliss. They had their jobs, their passion, their family and were even privy to visits from Tyrion, and occasionally even Renly. 

Sansa and Sandor phoned in regularly, a feat Jaime suspected being born more from Sandor’s side of the relationship. 

Margaery had returned to Highgarden and thus phoned in every other week, mostly to inform Brienne of whatever it was one of her brother’s had gotten up to, and for dirt on Jaime, which Brienne  _ never _ supplied.

Myrcella grew tall, but still enjoyed being the shortest of the family, and absolutely adored Brienne and the dichotomy the woman was. Myrcella thrived on Tarth in a way Jaime would have never imagined she would ever do. 

On one of his final days, Selwyn couldn’t help but laugh at Jaime’s dumbstruck expression, as the younger man took to informing him of his concerns regarding Myrcella’s newfound wish of enrolling in Evenfall University to begin med school in the fall. Concerns which Selwyn proceeded to stifle as he informed Jaime he shouldn’t worry about his daughter, for he too knew of another stubborn fencing-loving girl who, at barely seventeen, had decided to become a surgeon; and as far as Selwyn was concerned, she was doing just fine. 

Selwyn died on Myrcella’s eighteenth nameday. 

It was an odd day for everyone. Brienne remained somber and aloof throughout most of it, until late at night, when her bed suddenly became the meeting point for everyone currently residing in her childhood home. The old frame somehow ending up having to support the weight of Myrcella, Tommen, Jaime and herself as they each shared fond stories about Selwyn, and their own fathers and mothers. Brienne finally managed to fall asleep to the soothing voice of Jaime recalling the tale of when he had met her. 

The day before Myrcella started at Evenfall University, Jaime proposed to Brienne. 

It happened beneath the OR’s fluorescent lighting, as they were sitting down on a couple of stools, patiently waiting for the anesthesiologist to finish questioning their patient. With no build up, Jaime took out a small ring from his pocket, claiming he had been toying around with it for almost a year, but for some reason his brain was still adamant on taking a lengthy amount of time to decide to act on important things. He rambled on, with Brienne remaining perplexed and trying her hardest to not cry in front of the nurses and few students. 

When he started talking about having received her father’s blessing before his death, she shut him up with a kiss and a resounding yes which almost resulted in getting both thrown out of the room.

They married a few months after that. A small ceremony with a small feast, held in Brienne’s family home’s backyard. 

Tyrion and Tysha made it with a surprise of their own, five months already in the making. Cersei attended upon Myrcella’s request, the woman looking better than the last time Brienne had seen her, yet still looking far more fatigued than she should have probably appeared. She was somehow still as glamorous as ever. 

Margaery send an envoy in the form of Willas Tyrell, who couldn’t stop looking at Myrcella for most of the ceremony and ended up with Jaime scowling at him throughout the rest of the day. 

Sandor and Sansa managed to make it, carrying news from the mainland which Brienne surprisingly found herself feeling melancholic about. 

Tarth wasn’t the same without her father. Jaime agreed, but insisted she not sell the house. They would need a secure vacation home, large enough for the entire family; and with the three kids he kept insisting they were going to have, they would need the space. 

Brienne kept insisting he was crazy. She would have one kid and he should be happy with the three he would end up summing. 

Jaime insisted Tommen wasn’t his. 

Brienne rolled her eyes and reminded him of his insistence of claiming Myrcella to be hers. 

Jaime insisted Myrcella had imprinted on Brienne like a lost duckling. 

Brienne would then grin, still a little hazed about having had such a profound effect on the teenager, and proceed to tell him Tommen had done the same with him; and thus they would only have one more kid. 

They moved back to King’s Landing by themselves. 

Myrcella remained at Evenfall and happily remained close to the Tarth home, as she shared a nearby apartment with two friends who were also starting med school. 

Tommen had been impressively granted a scholarship to study at The Citadel, a feat no one but Brienne had seen coming. 

Brienne understood Tommen’s quiet glances and wide all seeing eyes. The boy was Jaime’s, no matter what genetics entailed. Brienne had grown more than familiar with the pattern of letting the world think you were not as smart as you truly were. Tommen’s quiet genius was all Jaime, and Brienne loved having the opportunity of reminding her husband she had been the only one who had known Tommen had applied for the scholarship. 

Jaime’s grand city-apartment now felt empty. It had always been meant for four, and now they were only two -two humans and a kitten Tommen had insisted they keep after his own had had a litter of five. 

Brienne was quickly granted a swing position with the NIH without much problem. Stoneheart was no longer KLG’s Head Chief, and there had been numerous staff changes throughout the years. 

Addam had stayed, and Sandor was now a regular day-shift attending surgeon. Brienne bounced around days and nights, covering for whomever needed the time off. Jaime pressed, and eventually managed to get his previous post back, taking advantage of Meribald’s overdue retirement. 

Their work kept them busy, their love kept them grounded, and one morning after Myrcella had left back for Tarth after Conquest vacations were over, Brienne took notice she should probably get tested for a possible pregnancy. 

Podrick Payne had been a quiet, strong willed, hard working kid back when he had been an intern. Brienne and Jaime had both like him well enough, had oftentimes even remembered him whenever they would encounter an incompetent intern, always retreating to comparing them to Pod. 

Podrick Payne as a resident, was even more loyal and hardworking than Pod the intern had been; and Brienne had felt genuine joy upon discovering him a third-year surgical resident at KLG upon hers and Jaime’s return to the institution. 

So Brienne went to Pod, who regressed into his stammering young self as she asked him for the favor of running her blood sample through the lab. 

Brienne told Jaime the news as they watched their favorite Ser Duncan film, casually weaving it into their conversation, expectant of his reaction. Which ended up being a grin so full and warm it brought tears to both their eyes. 

Brienne and Jaime had to call in sick to work the next day, with Jaime insisting he would not allow her outside of their room for at least 24 hours. He didn’t. Brienne couldn’t even stand up properly for the last eight. 

They agreed to not let anyone but Myrcella and Tommen know about it until after the first trimester and continued on with their jobs as if it nothing had changed. 

It should have been disconcerting how good they still were at pretending their lives hadn’t just been turned upside down; but more than anything, it made them aware of just how far they truly had come from that first time Jaime had punched someone  _ and _ had broken his wrist  _ for _ her and had completely ignored the implications of said act. 

\--------

King’s Landing got storms, and rain, and the occasional hazel fall. But none had ever managed to overflow the bay. 

It was the worst storm on record ever since the fall of the third Targaryen empire almost two hundred years before. The entire city raged and got caught in fear as the wind howled with impressive ferocity, and streets got hidden under rippling makeshift rivers having formed from the excessive amount of water being poured out of the sky. 

Jaime cursed as the window rattled. He didn’t like storms, never hand. 

His wife; tall, brave, kind, tired and heavily - _ heavily- _ pregnant, chuckled at him. 

“You’re mocking me.”

“Yes,” she breathed out; her face scrunching up right after, a contraction hitting her again. They were getting longer and closer to each other. 

“You’re worse than Cat,” she offered when she could once again form words. 

“You’re comparing me to a cat.”

“Well, you’re getting as skittish as she does. It’s just rain.”

Jaime did not care if she was right in the middle of labor, he glared at her. He had heard uncountable women insulting their husbands through the ripping pain of contractions, but he had never once been witness to a wife amusingly enjoying her husband’s uneasiness the way she was. 

Martell chose the moment right after another bolt of lighting struck to enter the room, which made Jaime give out a startled jump.

“You’re worse than a cat.”

“I told him as much,” Brienne barely got out as her face churned once more; sweat starting to gather on her brow from the exhaustion. She had been in labor for a little over 24 hours now.

“Shut up, Martell. It’s the biggest storm KL has seen in decades, forgive me for being a little bit stressed when half of the city is  _ drowning _ while I’ve got one kid is trying to make their way to the hospital under such weather, and another is being born right in the middle of it!”

This time Brienne didn’t get the chance to chuckle as another contraction hit, this one making her grunt out louder than she had done before. 

“Gods, I’m going to go crazy.”

“If you can’t keep it together, Lannister; I’m gonna throw you out for the actual birth.” Martell threatened, amused smirk playing on his face. 

“Not a chance. Just get Sand in here and give her the fucking analgesic!”

“Brienne? You still haven’t signed anything.”

It hurt, it hurt like hell and so much wincing was making her ruined cheek tingle where it had always remained just a bit too sensitive. She could do it, she knew she could bring her little girl into the world without the help of heavy narcotics; but she wanted Jaime there with her, and she knew he wouldn’t be able to see her in much more pain than she already was. 

Besides, hadn’t she already suffered through enough broken bones and broken hearts to not be granted this one respite? Brienne nodded at her old attending, already feeling the start of another contraction taking form. 

“I’ll get Ellaria; you just keep doing whatever it is you were doing to calm  _ him _ down, yeah?”

It wasn’t funny and Jaime told the obnoxious gynecologist as much. 

“Myrcella?” Brienne asked after taking in several recuperating breaths. 

“She’s still trying to get through. She says the streets look more like rivers than actual streets. Fucking, stupid storm.”

Brienne did manage a chuckle, but it was softer and felt a lot more strained than the previous ones she’d given him. She was getting tired, even if she was trying her hardest to hide it. Her resilient face forced Jaime to move closer, sitting beside her on the hospital bed, taking her ruined cheek in his hand, resting his forehead against hers as another contraction began. He moved in to kiss her forehead, whispering words of adoration and love which got Brienne through the excruciating pain.

“I’ve always known you’re amazing, but I swear I’ve never been more amazed by you or more in love with you.”

“Don’t try and sweet talk me into not mocking your fear of rain.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time with me, love.”

“I’ve no choice, you’re my husband.”

Her comment got a quick laugh out of him, and made Jaime dip his head down to kiss her, holding her close as another contraction hit. 

“I love you,” she whispered as she regained a bit of strength. “Even if you are scared of water.”

“I had to go and marry a bloody Stormlands’ girl, didn’t I?”

Brienne hit him, but gave him the loveliest of smiles; with eyes half open, crooked teeth, thick lips and sweat gathering over her forehead and above her lips. 

After Ellaria successfully reduced Brienne’s pain, and Martell checked on the progress Brienne had made since his last revision, Myrcella finally arrived at KLG. With her own white coat dangling from her arms, the young woman stormed inside Brienne’s room, worried and excited green eyes meeting blue tired ones. 

When the time finally came to actually push the babe out, Brienne successfully glared every nurse and resident out of her room. 

Jaime grabbed on to her hand, gently stroking her damp hair as she grunted and cursed while trying to bring their daughter into the world. 

Between lightning, thunder and rain; and grunts, sweat and blood: Joanna Lannister was born, screaming for her life and already vehemently kicking for independence. 

As the squealing and frantic babe got put into her arms, Brienne finally let her tears fall, Jaime outright sobbed, and Myrcella was quick to burst back into the room. 

The girl felt tears gather behind her eyes at the picture which stood in front of her; of her father and the woman who had somehow stolen her own heart, cradling her baby sister with a look of unconditional love adorning both of their faces. It was beautiful to witness and precious to capture, the sudden snap from her phone’s camera startling the couple just enough to make them realize she had come back inside the room. 

Brienne gave Myrcella a small, shy and pure smile, while her father only managed to gather even more tears behind his eyes. 

Myrcella took a tentative step forward, allowing Brienne the opportunity to gently cradle and maneuver the newborn girl who was slowly beginning her search for food. Before Myrcella was asked to once again leave the birthing room, she gathered enough courage to step towards the new little family unit, green eyes fixed firmly on the still squirming baby girl. 

“Welcome to the world, Joanna.” She whispered, letting her tears finally fall as she felt her father reach out to embrace her as they all continued to watch Joanna with rapt and loving attention. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not supposed to have any dialogue, but I itched to write that last scene out and so I did. 
> 
> Is it too much if I say THANK YOU again? 
> 
> Didn't think so. 
> 
> THANK YOU
> 
> Lots of love, feriferfer

**Author's Note:**

> This is already complete. So I will be posting regularly (not sticking to a strict schedule, but I am making it my goal to post at least twice a week). 
> 
> Titles from Taylor Swift songs; I regret nothing about it.   
Still haven't decided if I regret the rest.


End file.
